Fear and Love
by tothevision
Summary: Peter has nightmares, but who will save him?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: This is definitely a story where if you don't like it, don't read it. Otherwise, I'd love to know what you think! Please review, good, bad, anything. I welcome all!_

**Chapter 1  
**

The sheets were soft. He would often get tangled in them and wonder how anything could feel so soft and wonderful. Then he felt her.

His hands slid under her dress, roaming higher and higher, seizing the heated, smooth flesh of her thighs. In all his dreams, every forbidden fantasy, he never imagined this, such glorious perfection. He moaned into her mouth and thrust up against her. She was so sweet on his tongue… Her hands found his shoulders. Too much material, not enough skin. He heard something tear and a soft gasp. It didn't matter. He had to be closer. Had to feel her. Had to touch her. Everything. Everywhere.

It took him too long to realize that she wasn't grasping at his shoulders. She was pushing him away. Far too long.

"STOP IT!" she cried.

It was the first time her voice registered since he started kissing her. Peter reared back in horror. She was screaming and shoving against him, crying and kicking. He was so confused, so lost, what had he done? Why was she so upset with him?

Susan looked up at him with madness in her eyes, tear stained and stinging red cheeks. Her dress was torn, her hair wild, she was ravaged and terrified. Terrified? Susan was afraid? Of what? Then it came.

Him.

"You filthy monster!" she screamed and his head snapped back from the ferocity of her fist. "You wanted to make love to me!? Disgusting, filthy, bastard!" Her fist swung again and he knew his nose was broken. She shoved him hard and he fell off the bed, smacking hard against the stone floor.

"Susan!" he exclaimed in utter shock. Blood trickled out of his nose. "Please! I-I didn't mean-"

She kicked him this time and he couldn't stifle the groan as pain shot through his body.

"Perverted, loathsome animal! You make me sick! My brother! What have you done!?" she cried in aguish and scrambled away from him to the other side of the room.

Peter struggled to his feet. "I didn't know! I-I'm sorry! Susan, I love you!"

He never expected what came next. His beautiful, abused, raw, sister strung up her bow and leveled the arrow at his head.

What has he done?

"How could you do this to me?" she cried. She was so angry and so ashamed. "To us? How foul…depraved…beast!"

Peter couldn't hear her so well anymore, just pieces. Blood and screams roared in his ears. His vision blurred and nausea rolled through his stomach. The abhorrence she showed now, shuddering in distaste at the very sight of him was everything he had ever feared.

"Defiled! …touched me… my own brother! GET OUT!"

"I-I-I'm sorry, Su!" he sobbed.

It was all he could do now.

"Get out, Peter," she said in a dark, even tone that sent shivers down his spine.

He had never heard such hatred in her voice before; the anger in her eyes, the betrayal, the fear. She despised him.

"You know I won't miss."

He knew she wouldn't.

He prayed for it.

Stumbling for the door, he barely fell out of it before it slammed closed behind him. Alone in the darkened hallway, he sobbed against the stone. Fierce footsteps approached him from the right. Strong hands seized his collar and hauled him to his feet.

He barely saw who it was before he was delivered another blow, cracking across his cheek. Pain exploded into his eye and he looked back at his brother in shock.

"How could you do it!?" Edmund roared. "Are you damaged? Attacking Susan like some perverted monster?! You betrayed her!" Unable to contain himself, he shoved Peter hard into the wall. "She's our sister! You're revolting!" the younger king spat venomously.

Peter was voiceless.

"And now she's gone!" Edmund raged on, spurred by his brother's lack of response. "No one can find her. She's lost to us. It's all because of YOU!"

No.

..No.

Peter's gaze swung wildly.

She couldn't be gone.

Susan!

Peter ran.

Lucy was down the hall and twisted round at his heavy thunder. When her eyes rested upon him, Peter nearly died. She recoiled with a gasp, disgust marring her usually loving eyes. He was disgusting to her. Dearest Lucy.

He was running again, searching. He had to find her. He couldn't lose her. She was gone. What has he done? The castle was void and silent – there was no one left. He rode out into the forest, the woodland creatures had abandoned them, and the trees had retreated to dark slumbers. Susan! No one was here for him now. Narnia recoiled from him, a monstrous abomination; a truly evil king with dark, grotesque thoughts. His feelings were vile, unnatural; he wanted to love her in every way he shouldn't. He wasn't fit to walk this paradise. As she vanished, so did everything he had ever known.

SUSAN!

"Peter!"

With a gasp, Peter sat up in sweat soaked sheets. Panicked, he examined the room. His room. His bed.

And she was there.

"Peter," Susan whispered with wide, concerned eyes. "It's alright! It was only a nightmare. You're alright."

She was there!

He seized her tightly, gathering her in his arms and clutched her to him with all the strength he possessed. Whispering soothing words against his ear, she let him hold her.

"I'm so sorry, Su!" he cried against her shoulder. "I promise I'll be better! I-I swear it! I won't think like that anymore…I'll try to be better! I'll be a good brother to you, I won't hurt you. Please don't leave, Su! Please! Don't go!"

Susan could hardly understand him anymore as his words became more frenzied and nonsensical.

"Peter, quiet!" she ordered and there was a sense of regality to her tone.

He stopped talking at once and tried taking deep breaths, but could only manage a few hitching ones. Susan carefully peeled away from him, but he was so reluctant to let her out of his arms she had to settle for just being able to see his face.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said sternly, willing him to believe her. "It was just a dream."

He could only nod and at that she softened.

"I would never leave you, Peter. Anytime you need me, I'll be right here. Now just try to breathe a little bit. Slower. Yes, much better."

They waited in silence as Peter regained his bearings and the nightmare faded into memories. He let her go now, only to panic every time she moved as though she would disappear. The High King's room was dark, with only a pale sliver of moonlight to guide them. He couldn't see her face very well, but he didn't have to. He already knew every line and curve. It was burned into his vision. Her robe was haphazardly tied and threatened to spill open as she sat beside him with worried eyes.

Peter sighed.

"Better?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "How did you…I mean, why are you…?" he stumbled over the question unsurely, but she knew what he was asking.

Her vision flickered downward at his bedspread and then to his face again. "The servants heard you. They thought you were calling for me, you kept screaming my name. Frightened me half to death…"

He swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…_scare_ you." His voice trembled over the word.

_Ravaged and terrified…_

"I thought something had happened to you! I thought…well, I don't know what I thought. I was imagining all sorts of terrible things that could have happened to have you calling me in the middle of the night. But then I saw you thrashing about and shouting in your sleep." She paused for a moment and then ventured gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Immediately he shook his head no.

Conceding, she said, "Alright then. If you've calmed enough, perhaps you should try to get some rest. It is late after all…"

Before Peter could even protest her departure, she frowned at his face and glanced over his half unclothed body. Peter blushed under the scrutiny, however fleeting it was. She then examined the sheets, fingering them disapprovingly.

"That won't do…" she murmured to herself and then he could see she had made a decision. Susan grabbed his hand and led him out of bed.

"What-" he began to ask she was already pulling him towards the door.

"Your bedclothes are soaked," she said over her shoulder and offered no more than that.

Her determination led her onward. Opening the door, Peter saw Massius standing about nervously with three others. At the sight of the High King and Queen, they stood rapt to attention, knowing for sure that there was disaster to occur. They had never heard such a vulnerable cry from their King.

Susan spoke rapidly to Massius in hushed tones, the faun nodded gravely and after a worried sideways glance at Peter; he trotted off with the others. Susan was pulling at him again and they went straight down the hallway towards the southern bedchamber. It lay at the end of the hall, the exact opposite to his.

To the radiant southern sun…

"Susan, I'm fine, really…" Peter protested nervously, but she would have none of it.

They entered her room together and she dropped his hand for a moment to light a lamp on a nearby table. The loss of her reassuring touch made his chest clench in fear before he forced himself to relax and remember that it was only a nightmare, she wasn't going to vanish.

Peter stood awkwardly in the middle of her room, unsure of what she wanted from him. A soft rap against the door was answered by Susan in seconds. Hushed whispers again and then she closed it. When she faced him, her hands were occupied with a small bowl and a few white cloths. Steam rose off the water in the bowl and she brought it over to her bedside table. When she realized that he had yet to move, she beckoned him forward.

Jerkily, he moved his feet, which seemed abnormally heavy at this point, and stopped at the foot of the bed. Susan sighed impatiently and took his hand once more, guiding him to be seated atop the mattress. Frozen and silent, Peter sat there with his legs over the side and fearful eyes. What control was left to him?

Susan dipped the cloth into the bowl and then he felt the soothing warmth of the compress slide across his cheek and forehead. Startled, he looked up at her, but she was too focused on the task to notice. The light from the lamp danced across her beautiful, young face. Her features were drawn and her mouth firm as she tended to him in the way she always did; quiet, reserved, but utterly determined. Desire whipped through him so fast he lost his breath.

Don't look at her.

Dipping the cloth back in and wringing out the excess moisture, she washed away the cold sweat on his skin, tenderly wiping across his bare chest and stomach. Peter gritted his teeth as a burning fire spread through his body, nerves roaring to life, crying for more. A heated pressure in his groin was all too familiar and all too terrifying. He prayed with all his might for a saving grace and knew he would not receive it. Blue eyes locked on the floor, it was too dangerous to even breathe right now.

"They were all very worried about you," she said, her gaze flickering to his face and back again. "Massius had a near fit pounding on my door like that."

"How mortifying…" Peter muttered. "Do they know-"

She shook her head quickly. "I told them it was nothing to be concerned about."

"Small favors."

Repeating the ritual a few more times, Susan was finally satisfied and dropped the cloth once and for all. Picking up a nearby towel, she dried him carefully, all the while Peter was too shell-shocked to move. He had locked himself tighter than he imagined a stone would. His whole body ached.

"There," she said quietly. "Much better."

Peter could only nod his thanks. If she noticed his standoffishness, she didn't let on.

"I had them replace your linens, b-but if you'd rather not…"

Suddenly she became shy and almost embarrassed, as opposed to the ever-sure determination she displayed just seconds before. Peter gazed at her wonderingly.

"S-s-sleep here, you mean?" he squeaked out before he remembered that was exactly what he didn't want to say.

Susan nodded imperceptibly. "If you don't want to be alone, I wouldn't mind if you stayed with me. I never want to be alone after a nightmare. I always think the dream might return if there is not someone else there to fend it off." She chuckled lightly and added, "It has been a while since we've shared a bed…"

"Not since we were children," Peter agreed, knowing that was a safe thing to say, a brotherly thing.

"Lucy would say we still are children, though it grows more and more difficult to believe her. I think we've aged more than our years say. Do you feel like a child here?"

"I feel like a King," he breathed in reply.

Susan smirked at him with her trademark eyebrow raise. "That's probably because you _are_ one."

"Do you feel like a Queen?" he asked.

It was such a simple question, yet the fractured emotion on her face made it seem like he asked her to cry and explain quantum physics at the same time (though knowing her, she would probably have had an answer to that one too). She stepped away from him and glided over to the table where the lamp was.

"Sometimes," she murmured.

"Why not always?"

When she turned back at last, he knew she wasn't going to answer him.

"You love Narnia, don't you, Su?" he cocked his head.

"With all my heart," she replied, but the sad smile that tinged her lips made him wonder.

Extinguishing the lamp so that her room was blanketed in darkness once more, Susan came back to the bed where Peter had yet to move from. He watched her shadowed form float through the dark and the bed dipped under her weight as she crawled beside him.

"Come, lie down," she told him and then gently pushed at his shoulders so he would fall back against the pillows. Her hands upon his bare skin made him shiver warmly. She pulled the covers back and over them both before lying down at his side.

His heart thudded against his chest so loudly; he knew it was impossible for her not to hear it.

"I-I," he stuttered anxiously. "I didn't say I was going to stay."

Peter nearly shouted in victory for having the strength to speak those words, but as soon as he felt like he had regained some type of control, she unwittingly ripped it from his shaking hands.

"If you haven't left by now, you won't ever," Susan said in the matter of fact tone that so often made him want to toss her off a bridge. "So, hush."

She always thought she was so clever, and just because she actually _was_, didn't mean she had to act like it all the time. He often relished the chance to drive her mad by arguing against something they both very well knew was right. He loved the way her face flushed angrily and her words became more pointed until she folded unto shouting and stormed away from him in pure frustration, muttering about the 'hopelessness of the male species'.

Susan had such fire in her and he treasured the fact that he was one of the few who could draw it out. Perhaps one day he would be able to discover another key to unlock that chamber, instead of resorting to taunts and pointless squabbles…oh, he could dream.

While others may jump at the chance to bluster, rage, and roar until their voice was heard, Susan never needed to. Her passion was kept reserved deep within, she didn't like to let others see it and there were few who ever managed it. Peter never really understood that. Though he revered the privilege of being one, it almost seemed like an injustice the rest of the world to be deprived of her. She was never so extraordinary and magnificent than when her true self was raised to the surface. Sometimes he would think that Aslan had titled them wrongly. Susan was far more magnificent than he. Filled with an ardent thirst and power, she would begin to glow so brightly and tangibly it couldn't help but raise everything else around her as well. Then he would see her love in her eyes and knew that there was never a more gentle sight.

Peter didn't realize he had been staring at her all this time, watching in silence through the dark, until she said, "Sleep. It'll be better in the morning."

It was dangerous what he was doing. Reckless and irresponsible considering how much strength it required just to keep himself from reaching out and embracing her the way every single nerve in his body was crying out for him to do, but Peter was torn between wanting to protect them and doing as she asked. At last, he nodded and gave in. He fell asleep with the lightest touch of her fingers brushing against his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Susan woke later to Lucy scrambling atop the bed and insisting that she wake immediately.

"I'm tired, Lu!" she waved her off crankily.

"Susan," the younger girl said, trying to make her voice as serious and stern as possible. "All of Narnia is awake but you."

"Even the owls?" she mumbled into her pillow.

"Well, no, of course not the owls. Owls are _nocturnal_, that means they sleep during the day, you know that."

"Go away, Lucy."

But the young girl refused and starting bouncing on the bed, knowing that her sister wouldn't tolerate it for long.

"Tis not proper for a Queen to sleep till all hours of the day! Peter has already been up for ages yet!"

That caught Susan's attention and all desire for further rest was relinquished. She looked around and found the other side of her bed empty where her brother had previously occupied it.

"Is he alright?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" Lucy shrugged at the odd question. "I haven't seen him though; he rode off with Oreius and a few others shortly after dawn. Mr. Beaver told me so."

"Rode off?" Susan echoed in alarm and sat up suddenly, causing Lucy to start. "Rode off where? What's going on?"

She only shrugged. "I don't know. Edmund's been too busy to tell me. If you ask me, he's still a bit cross about losing that match last week…"

Susan wasn't listening to anymore. She flung off the covers and dressed as quickly as she could before rushing off to find her younger brother, Lucy in tow. The loud bang of the doors being thrown open and Queen Susan striding into the room caused three of the four soldiers to jump. Edmund, however, seemed to expect her arrival and didn't even flinch at the sudden appearance. He continued to pore over a map on the table with a look that Susan knew well by now.

"Edmund, what is it?" she demanded and rushed to his side, eyeing the marked paper. Lucy entered the room quietly behind Susan and shut the doors with a soft click.

"We received word of attacks happening along the border of the Northern Marsh. At least ten families have reported their homes pillaged and burned." He pointed to that very spot on the map.

"Is it the same group we've been tracking? The last of her army?"

"Peter believes so; he's gone out to survey the damages."

"They're so close to Cair Paravel…" Susan murmured.

"Your majesty," interjected the taller of the two centaurs standing in the room. "Our scouts brought word just a few hours ago; they found traces of a large encampment across the Shribble. We believe that they were hiding in Ettinsmoor, biding their time."

"No wonder why we couldn't find them," Lucy's sweet voice chimed in among them and she joined her siblings at the table. "The mountains in Ettinsmoor are treacherous and impossible to navigate."

"Seems they managed to navigate them well enough," Edmund said tightly.

"A large encampment?" Susan frowned at the centaur who had spoken before. "How large?"

"At least two hundred, your majesty," he answered solemnly. "If not more."

"That's twice what we anticipated!" she said in shock. "How on earth did they manage to assemble those numbers?"

"We've got to prepare for battle," Edmund sighed. "I've already ordered the first regiment to be armed and ready to march."

"You think they're going to attack the castle?" Susan replied, aghast. "They wouldn't! Not with merely two hundred at their disposal. It would be suicide."

"I don't know what their plan is, but we've already made a grave mistake in underestimating their numbers. I don't want to make that mistake again. We've been put at risk; it's not a large one, but still too much. We don't have the full resources of our army on hand; Peter let most on furlough months ago. It will take time before we can assemble them at full."

"You're going to go after them," Susan said disapprovingly. "You're going to send an entire regiment without knowing where the rebels lie."

Edmund glared at his sister. "I'm _waiting_ for Peter to return."

As if on cue, that very person strode in through the doors.

Upon seeing the two centaurs in the room, Peter said, "Good, you're here. General Oreius needs assistance with the preparations outside."

"At once, your majesty!" the smaller centaur said and both bowed before exiting.

Edmund took Peter's cue and dismissed the remaining soldiers as well, leaving the four siblings alone.

Susan tried to catch Peter's eye, but he wasn't paying attention to her. His focus was on the map Edmund had been studying.

"They're in Owlwood," he said, tapping his finger on the location.

"You're sure?" Susan pressed carefully.

Peter barely acknowledged the fact that she had spoken, only answering with a curt nod.

"Any ideas, Ed?" he turned to his brother.

The two kings conversed back and forth on several different plans of attack, trying to formulate them as quickly as they could. Susan stood by and listened closely as her own mind worked to chart the best course of action. Lucy seated herself by window and waited as her elder siblings worked it out, they had been here many times before. At last Edmund decided he wanted to launch an air attack, and have Peter surround them on the ground. Peter was about to agree to this, seeing no superior alternative, when Susan spoke again.

"An air attack would be fruitless. They'll just duck back into the woods for cover and then we'd have to chase after them in the forest, putting our soldiers at risk. We needn't unnecessarily endanger lives at this juncture."

Peter shook his head, still unwilling to meet her gaze. "Lives will always be endangered in battle, Susan."

"Besides, what else would you suggest?" Edmund said with a slight edge to his voice. He didn't like his ideas being challenged.

"A less overt offense," she answered, staring her younger brother down, daring him to argue. "You remember in the war at home, all their talk of sniper attacks?"

"Snipers?" Lucy echoed curiously.

Both Peter and Edmund nodded, wondering where she was going with this.

Susan continued, her index finger on the map where Owlwood was drawn, "If they're in the forest, let us use it to our advantage. We can't launch an air attack, but it doesn't mean we can't be in the air."

"Meaning?"

Intrigued, the youngest padded over to her siblings to hear the answer as well.

"Put our archers in the trees. We'll draw them into the trap and their numbers will be quickly halved. They'll most likely run to escape and then, Peter, you can have our soldiers on the ground pick off the last of them."

Edmund stared at Susan for a moment, turning the plan over in his mind, and then he looked down at the map.

"It's perfect," he said at last. "We can set it up at the edge of the wood, have our swiftest carriers lead them through and then when they run, they'll run right into us on the outside here…" he trailed off muttering more for himself than the others.

"So Susan had the better idea then?" Lucy interjected cheekily. Her elder sister swatted her with a 'be silent' glare that was only negated by the laughing curve of her lips and Lucy giggled.

Edmund grumbled inaudibly in response, but Susan took no notice, _he_ was watching. For the first time since he entered the room, Peter allowed their eyes to meet and she sucked in a breath at his smoldering gaze. Why was he looking at her like that? Her cheeks grew hot under his piercing blue eyes and a strange feeling tingled inside of her. It made her uncomfortable yet alive and burning with something she couldn't quite make sense of.

"I suppose you'll be joining these tree swinging archers," he said, his voice rumbling deeper than usual, causing an unusual jolt to her stomach.

"Of course!" she answered indignantly. The thought otherwise never occurred to her.

Peter bobbed his head in understanding, though he seemed to struggle with some unknown internal conflict. "Ed, go pick your runners for the bait. Make sure they're not too young."

And Edmund was gone.

"Lu," Peter said after a thoughtful pause and his sister perked to attention. "Do you think you could talk to the trees on our behalf? See who will help us? We could use the coverage."

Lucy's face lit up with excitement. "Yes, of course!" she squealed. "I'll go right now!" She started for the door, but Peter called after her.

"Bring Mr. Tumnus with you and don't stray from the grounds," he said sternly in the way only a big brother could.

Just as quickly as Edmund, Lucy too was gone. They heard a faint, echoing cry of "Mr. Tumnus!" And then they were alone.

Susan shifted uncomfortably in the silence, unsure of what to do or say at the moment. She couldn't understand why she was so nervous, it was just Peter. Yet, a voice deep down inside her screamed that it wasn't _just_ Peter. It was _Peter_. A blush crept beneath her cheeks again and she wracked her brain to find something, anything, to say that would end this suffocating silence between them. He wouldn't stop looking at her!

"H-how are you feeling?" she finally managed to choke out. "Did you sleep alright?"

That caused some spark inside him and Susan could swear she saw a hint of panic overtake his handsome features before he quickly recovered and retreated into himself once more, turning his gaze away.

"Fine," Peter uttered gruffly. Eager to change the subject, he added, "You'll need all the marksmen you can. You should go now, assemble the team as soon as possible. We'll be marching before daybreak tomorrow."

Susan knew he was anxious to be rid of her, but she couldn't figure out why. Unwilling to leave just then, she sighed.

"I'll be glad when all this is over. It's been three years since the White Witch was defeated. I'm so tired of all this fighting. Why can't we be left in peace, even for a short while?"

In a flash, Peter sent his foot flying into the nearest chair, causing it to skid backwards and flip over. The violent clatter echoed through the large room. "I'm doing the best I can!" he snapped angrily.

Taken aback by this sudden outburst, Susan blinked at him in confusion. Fury emanated across the space between them and she could feel it curl around her. Apparently the sight of the overturned chair, angered him all the more, and he growled under his breath. He kicked it once more and this time an arm broke off. Pleased by this outcome, he started stomping on it as hard as he could.

"Peter!" she exclaimed.

Her brother ignored her entirely. Wood splintered under the crushing force and finally, he picked up one of the broken pieces and threw it across the room, signaling an end to the assault.

Exasperated, Susan rolled her eyes at his behavior. "Really, Peter. You're acting like an ill-tempered child, throwing a fit…"

He whirled on her. "I happen to be frustrated, _Susan_," he said, rolling over her name with a hint of mocking. "I'm afraid we can't all have stones of logic in our hearts. Some of us actually experience an emotional spectrum that you, _perfect _you, cannot!"

For some reason his words didn't hurt her. In any other circumstance, they would have cut deeply, especially as vicious as this attack was, but Susan felt nothing now but utter befuddlement. He was trying to pick a fight with her! And being transparently obvious about it… He wanted her to lash out at him, to join in his anger, but she wasn't going to let that happen quite so easily.

Peter was jumping from emotion to emotion so quickly; she was dizzied by the speed. One moment he was level-headed and ready for battle, the next he was looking at her as if she were… and then he starts kicking things and shouting at her? If he weren't a boy, she would have thought he was in the throes of a monthly affliction.

"Simply because you're frustrated is no reason to wreak havoc on inanimate objects, much less be intemperately cruel," she replied coolly. "Have some control."

At the last word, he flinched as though Susan had struck him and said no more.

A part of her wanted to rail against her brother for acting so unreasonably childish, but his behavior last night and similarly conflicting attitude today made her think twice about it.

Finally, she relented. "Peter…I wasn't blaming you at all. It's not your fault that those things are still out there fighting us, killing Narnians. You're doing the best you possibly can, as are we all. No one could expect anything more."

As she spoke calmly, Peter's initial outrage began to crumble and his shoulders sagged in defeat. He lowered himself into the nearest, untarnished chair and held his head in his hands, transforming from the High King to Peter Pevensie before her very eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I just feel so…" he shook his head, unable to figure out what it was he was really feeling.

Susan's heart squeezed at the vulnerable sight, here was the boy she had comforted last night. It was as though her body had a mind of its own, for she was walking towards him and had her fingers threaded in his hair in a matter of seconds. She never noticed the shudder that rippled through him at the first contact. Stroking softly through the blond straw locks, she waited for him to find his voice.

"The way everyone looks to me – they expect me to know what to do, what to say… I never know! I'm just as lost as the rest of them. I try to be what they think I am, but it's never enough. It's worse since we've gotten here. I knew even less in the beginning, but they understood that at least. Now…now I'm supposed to live up to my title, the grace period gone, High King Peter, _the Magnificent_."

"Oh, dear, I knew that was going to go to your head some day."

Peter exhaled in exasperation and glared up at her. Relenting with a tiny smile, Susan dropped her hand from his hair, accidentally letting her fingers trail across the back of his neck. He seized and stared at her with wide eyes, but she didn't pick up on it.

"You have to stop taking it all upon yourself," she said, coming around the chair to kneel in front of him and she placed her hands on top of his. He looked as though he were about to bolt, but she ignored it.

Peter always believed that people demanded perfection of him, even before they arrived in Narnia. As the eldest of four, he had an enormous amount of expectations pressed upon him, by their father, by his mother, and even by his siblings. People had always looked to him for answers, to be strong, to fight and protect; infallibility was what he took it to mean. Susan attempted in subtle ways to explain to him that magnificence is not perfection, its greatness, and he was a great king as well as a great man. Greatness has been known to falter and bend and have its missteps, but it doesn't stop it from being what it is. It is the people who strive for it, with love in their hearts and courage in their souls who define it. Infallibility is a myth taken upon those who want more than they are capable of giving.

"You have a brother and two sisters standing beside you. You may be the High King, but there are four thrones in Cair Paravel. We stand together and fight together and lead together. Don't be so foolish as to think you're the only one who matters."

"I don't think that!" Peter exclaimed, pulling his hands away. "Not at all!"

"Then why do you act like it?" Susan shot back heatedly, getting to her feet again.

Peter shook his head, and rose from the chair. He towered over her for a moment, her heart skipped a beat, Peter had grown a great deal in the last few years, and then he turned away and she could breathe again.

"The pressure is so much, Su… I just want to do right. _Narnia_ deserves that."

The way his voice cracked unsurely over the name made her wonder if there was something else he wanted to add to it or even replace it with, but she dismissed of the thought immediately.

"And so Narnia has it. But it is not up to you alone; you'd do well to remember that."

The room came to standstill as the two of them stood there, looking at the other. Susan wondered if she had been able to get through to him, but she couldn't tell. Peter acted so strangely these days, she really didn't know what to make of it. He stood there tall and strong, clothed in various reds with the royal crest embroidered across his chest, his back straight, and shoulders erect. It was the posture of a King, she thought, with the face of a boy and the eyes of a man.

"We have work to do," he said at last and kept his gaze on the edge of the table as though it were of some particular importance.

Tinged with disappointment, Susan frowned at him; her full lips pressed together in frustration, Peter was always too stubborn for his own good. Deciding to leave the discussion for now, they had more important things to tend to, she began to leave. Just as her hand touched the golden doorknob, she stopped. His rich, subdued voice sank deep inside, saturating her skin, filling her body, igniting passion and love simultaneously and she trembled from the sheer power that threatened to consume her.

"I'll remember."

Susan fled the room.

--

They left just before daybreak as Peter planned. In the dark gray light, he watched her mount the black steed and take the lead before a fifty-or so legion of archers. Susan could feel his gaze tickle at her back and resisted the urge to shrug it away. With a tight nod to Edmund, who would be riding part of the way with her, Susan called out her command and they thundered off for battle, leaving the High King behind in a fierce scowl. Susan never looked back.

They made good time and pleasantly found that Lucy had many friends in the forests. Communicating through the dryads, the youngest queen had managed to gather an impressive number of ancient, animated trees which were willing to assist them in their cause. Quickly, they dismounted and their horses were led off to where Peter's men would assemble. Some of the archers climbed up to their ledges without help, simply because it was easier for them, but the rest were lifted high to tree tops by lofty, curling branches. Once Susan was perched upon a thick, solid limb, she made the mistake of looking down too fast and had to cover her eyes to stave off the dizziness it caused. Estimating it carefully, she placed herself at fifty feet off the ground. On the other side, sharing her tree, was a young, soft spoken dwarf named Tarkle whom Susan esteemed to be one of most skilled archers among them. He was often placed at her right hand since joining their ranks, not simply because of his ability, but also because Susan considered him a dear friend and trusted him implicitly.

After settling themselves in for the wait, nary a sound came from the dozens of invisible soldiers in the trees. It was eerily silent as the sun rose against them, managing to break through in scattered beams across the forest floor. Susan rested against the rough bark, her bow in hand, and kept herself focused on what was to come. Peter couldn't enter her thoughts right now; it would be unforgivably irresponsible to allow it. And so he came, despite all her determination otherwise. She couldn't help but admire how handsome Peter had grown over the years, she always thought her brother was an attractive boy, but now he was growing into a man, and the strange, unsettling thoughts that came with it terrified her to no end. Yet, for as scary as it was, it was equally enthralling.

The absolute force that drew her to him these days was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She desired things of him, craved his touch in a way that was certainly not brotherly. Every day she would find herself fantasizing about him, whether she was receiving foreign diplomats or just reading in the shade. She'd dream about his lips, what they would feel like when captured with hers. She wanted so desperately to know what he would taste like, already intimately acquainted with his scent – would his mouth be as lovely? Fantasy after fantasy of his lean body flush with hers, devouring her mouth, squeezing his hips between her thighs as he thrust into her core and her eyes rolled back into her head as each wave of ecstasy poured over her until she was a useless, trembling mass in his arms. Once she had the misfortune of finding herself lost in a particularly explicit daydream during target practice. It was the only time she had ever actually missed the target board altogether. As if that weren't bad enough, she had ended up catching poor Bruin in his left flank. Needless to say, there was surprise all around.

Was it wrong to want him in this way? Sometimes her mind answered yes, others it said no, but her heart always had one true answer and it never wavered. Susan often appealed to her sense of logic and reason, but even this varied in its answers. She couldn't understand why there was a faint, tugging thought that feeling this way about her brother was an awful thing and perhaps even immoral. That certainly wasn't the way it was viewed in Narnia, so why did this keep pestering her? Why shouldn't she love Peter?

Susan gasped so loudly that Tarkle was compelled to break the careful silence and ask, "My queen, are you well?"

The disembodied voice from slightly beneath her shook Susan from her dwellings. She looked through the dense leaves, though she would not see him, and whispered hoarsely, "Quite alright, just startled… a hornet…"

Just then, a noise drifted in from a distance. Susan tensed on alert and crouched down on the tree limb, steadying herself as best she could. Reaching back, she drew one of her arrows with the distinctive fire red fletching out of her quiver. Soon the noises grew louder and louder, and she could make out the thundering of footsteps catapulting towards them, shouting and battle cries pierced her ears.

"Can't see enough," she whispered ever so slightly into the air. The branches parted as though being blown by the wind, the leaves rustling in protest, and Susan was given a better view of the ground below. Slowly and precisely, she drew back her arm, anchoring with ease as her hand lightly rested against her chin.

Just then, several animals broke through the clearing and ran straight through the pathway they had charted. Susan could see that there were a few jaguars along with a cheetah and two lions. They raced through the woods in a blur and close on their heels were roaring minotaurs, wielding their battleaxes. Susan inhaled deeply, waiting for the precise moment they needed, she had to time it perfectly. More and more came crashing through, rounding the tree trunks, and their bloodthirsty cries filled the air. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and she knew exactly when the moment had arrived.

"NOW!" she screamed at the top of her lungs and released her deadly arrow, dropping one of the beasts below.

In response, the archers in the trees echoed in her command and a sea of arrows rained down on the unsuspecting army. Startled, they looked up to the trees and began to scatter, crying ambush and struggling to get under cover, but it was futile. Just as quickly as she released her first, Susan followed up with three more arrows in rapid succession, meeting her targets with deadly accuracy each time. Within moments, a blanket of bodies littering the forest floor was seen, their comrades tripping over them in desperation as they tried to escape the unseen attackers.

Susan had almost emptied her quiver when it happened. The tree that held her shuddered violently and she was unprepared for such a wild motion. It wasn't until she felt the branches whipping across her face that she realized she was falling. She was hit again and again until the ground stopped her fall and all the air flew from her lungs. Somewhere above her, the usually quiet Tarkle was yelling louder than she thought he was even capable of projecting. Unable to move, she only managed to crack her eyes open to see blurry towers of green and brown looming over her. She felt something wet on her cheek and wanted to wipe it away, but she couldn't move her arms, nothing worked. There was a faint buzzing in her ears and her head was pounding something awful. Why would Tarkle cause such a ruckus, she wondered. It was so unlike him. She wanted to call out, assure him that she was alright, but then a shadow fell over her. Something pierced her shoulder. A sharp yelp reached Susan's ears and it sounded so much like her own voice. Pain invaded every crevice of her body as the floodgates opened and the initial numbness vanished. Darkness shrouded her vision, but she couldn't let it win. He would be so upset with her if it did. His wonderful face filled her mind, glowing in that boyishness happiness he so often exuded when they were together.

She truly was in love with Peter.

And then the darkness won.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It worked.

Peter shook his head in amazement.

He knew it would work. Did he ever really doubt it? Of course not. Susan's plan was executed flawlessly, even better than they had hoped for. He had a number of men hidden in strategic places in the forest, closing off any escape route for those who tried to double back. The rest, including him, were waiting in a field near the woods end, ready to take on the others who would run. It all happened perfectly. His men quickly and almost effortlessly took down the stragglers who managed to escape the treacherous bows – they even offered amnesty to those who would surrender. Surprisingly enough, several accepted this treaty, a small amount, but there all the same. A few of his men sustained only mild injuries. When the archers started coming out of the woods, he knew it was finished.

All around him, soldiers began cheering. Finally, the last of Jadis's legacy was eliminated. Joyous noises filled in around him as Narnians congratulated each other with claps on the back and some even started dancing. He grinned widely at Edmund who galloped towards him wearing an equally pleased expression.

"Hey oh!" Peter shouted and pumped his armored fist in the air in the universal sign for victory.

Edmund leapt off the horse and clasped his brother's hand, before embracing him.

"I'll never doubt that sister of ours again. She can strategize all our warfare tactics from here on!"

"What warfare?" Peter laughed. "Unless you decide to throw wine in the Tisroc's face, Narnia is finally at peace!"

"Sire," a nearby faun broke into their lighthearted conversation. "The Queen Lucy approaches."

Peter and Edmund couldn't wipe the silly grins off their faces as they looked round for their youngest sister, who had no doubt come to join in their victorious celebration. Peter spotted her in the distance racing across the field on horseback. As she neared them, the smile faded from the High King's lips. Pale and terrified, Lucy called out for her brothers as soon as she was within hearing distance. The panic in her voice gripped Peter's heart with icy fingers, squeezing so painfully he thought it might burst. He ran towards Lucy with speed he knew not he possessed.

"Peter!" Lucy cried. "It's Susan!"

So that's what it was like to die.

--

She tried to explain to him what happened, but Peter barely heard a word of it. All he could think of was that he needed to get to Susan. He knew he was on a horse riding relentlessly through the field, but had no memory of how he got there. His mind was utterly blank, void of a coherent thought or sentence. There was just an intense, urgent need, guiding him to her. Peter wasn't even aware that Lucy tried to ride alongside him, but couldn't keep up her brother's pace and soon fell behind. He didn't remember yelling for Edmund to stay behind. He had to be with Susan. Had to protect her. Save her. Heal her. Hold her. Know that she was still with him. Nothing would tear them apart. He didn't know what he would do when he got there, or how he could help her, but those kinds of queries never entered his mind. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.

"_She's so badly wounded, Peter! And she refused my cordial. I didn't know what to do…"_

_The blood drained from Edmund's face as Lucy rapidly explained. Peter heard no more than that, he didn't need to._

A violent wind whipped across his face as he urged his horse faster and faster.

--

Lucy was waiting nearby with several attendants as the battle went on. They didn't expect many casualties, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Peter absolutely refused to have her in harm's way, so they settled on having her near and she would be called on when the threat was removed to attend to any possible fatalities. Sitting in the tall grass, she giggled as Mr. Tumnus attempted to teach her an old narnian game involving smooth pebbles. The faun couldn't hide his smile as Lucy poorly attempted to mimic his actions.

Though the young girl appeared to be having some lighthearted fun, never once did her mind leave her brothers and sister. All the fear and concern she held for their safety was kept tucked away as best she could. It would benefit no one if she were a mess and was her duty as a queen to keep her composure – Susan taught her that.

"Your majesty!" one of her attendants called out. "Look!"

Lucy followed the direction the hare nodded to and saw a dryad swirling towards them at a rapid speed. She scrambled to her feet with a frown, wondering what the woodland incarnation would have to say. The next thing Lucy knew, she was mounting her horse and galloping next to the dryad who instructed them on where to go. As she rode, the tree spirit whispered exactly what had occurred and Lucy's fear rose with every rustling word.

Everything was going according to plan until one of the enemies drove an axe deep into the trunk of the tree that held Susan. In pain, the tree had trembled and caused Susan to fall. If she had not been slowed by numerous branches on the way down, the fall alone would have been fatal. One of the White Witch's followers recognized the Narnian Queen and made an attempt on her life. Fortunately, Tarkle felled the beast in time, causing the knife to pierce her shoulder instead of her heart as it was originally intended. The wounded beech managed to lift Susan to safety and she was handed off through the forest from tree to tree as young Tarkle followed swiftly on the ground. She was placed in a grassy area, well removed from the fighting, but the poor dwarf could do nothing save wait with his injured Queen until help arrived.

When her sister came into view, Lucy couldn't hold back the cry that escaped her lips.

"Oh, Susan!"

The elder Queen lay on her back in the grass, with her friend at her side, holding a bloodied rag to her shoulder. Lucy threw herself off her horse almost dangerously and dropped down at Susan's side, scrambling for the cordial at her belt. She was just about to remove it from its case when her sister's pale but strong hand stopped her. Lucy looked up at her in shock.

"What is it?" she exclaimed.

"I don't need it," Susan said through gritted teeth with a firm shake of her head.

Even as she spoke, Lucy could see the pain she was in. Her sister's face was badly bruised, purplish and swollen with bloody scratches everywhere. There wasn't an inch that wasn't covered by some nasty welt. It looked to Lucy like she was bleeding everywhere; Tarkle was covered in it as he applied pressure to her shoulder wound. Her clothes were dirty and torn; her long dark hair was uncharacteristically wild and matted down with yet more blood.

"Don't need it?" the girl all but shrieked. "Don't be stupid, Susan! Just take the drop and you'll be healed."

But Susan held fast. "Only for fatal wounds, Lucy, we all agreed, and I'm not going to die. I'll heal from this. J-just…" she took in a shaky breath as a wave of pain coursed through her. Lucy immediately ripped off the top of her vial, but Susan waved her away. "Just get me back to the castle," she said sternly.

Lucy and Tarkle simultaneously protested.

"Your majesty, please-"

"No, you can't do this, I won't let you! Just take the-"

"Do as I say!" Susan shouted forcefully, using the last of energy, and stunned them both into silence.

"Just…just bring me back to the castle so I can rest," she added weakly and Lucy could not refuse her.

They created a makeshift bandage and wound it tightly across her shoulder, though it was still bleeding profusely, and then carefully arranged Susan with one of the attendants on horseback. She had to ride sidesaddle because her left leg was badly broken. They splinted it temporarily with tree bark for stabilization, though it was hardly effective. Tarkle surmised in a low voice to the others that he was certain that wasn't the only broken bone she had.

Lucy knew her sister was doing all she could not to scream in pain and nearly cried herself in frustration because she was doing nothing to help. Tarkle, Mr. Tumnus, and the rest were already waiting to escort their Queen. Quickly, she mounted her horse and began to trot alongside them as they started back for Cair Paravel, but when Susan realized what Lucy was doing, she shook her head and said in a raspy voice, "No, stay, they might need you."

Aghast, Lucy replied, "You need me!"

She tried to draw in a breath of air, but found it to be too painful and just looked to Lucy tiredly. "Don't be silly," she said tightly. "I'll be fine."

As she said this, Lucy could swear her sister's face grew even paler. "Susan, I won't-"

"This is no time to argue," she snapped impatiently. "You have a duty. Now, we can talk when you get back." Upon seeing the devastated young girl's face, her demeanor softened and she slipped back into the reassuring, motherly manner she so often used with her siblings and murmured, "Stop fretting, I'll be just fine. You'll see."

"Susan…" she implored helplessly one last time as tears fell down her cheeks. "Please."

Susan would have none of it, and Lucy pulled back, watching with a fearful heart as her sister got further and further away. Finally, she made her decision and quickly turned her horse around and rode along the woods edge. Susan needed someone and it wasn't her.

--

The High King stormed the castle, barreling through the gates with no concern at all for anyone in his path. A small squirrel was nearly trampled under the thunderous hooves of his steed and all King Peter did was push his horse faster, as he had done the entire road back. He drove to the very steps of the main entrance and leaped off, ignoring the bustle of servants around him that were expressing concern for their King. He pushed past them all and charged the stone steps, throwing the doors open, and ran inside.

"SUSAN!" he cried and its magnificent echo reverberated through the entire castle.

Massius trotted towards him fearfully; panic driving his twitchy faun motions. "Sire, she's in the East Wing being-"

He cut himself off for King Peter had already vanished, his boots making a vociferous crashing noise down the cavernous halls as he raced to find his sister.

The healers surrounded Queen Susan, doing all they could to try and save their ailing monarch, but their efforts showed little to none. Her condition had steadily declined and she had yet to regain consciousness since passing out on the journey back. The loyal attendant had held fast to his Queen, cradling her limp form and valiantly strived to get back to Cair Paravel as quickly as he could. The healers knew she had lost too much blood, the jostle of her travels only made it worse. There was little they could do now, except try to make her as comfortable as possible.

Suddenly, they heard a ruckus outside the chamber, a deep voice roared angrily and they shuddered darkly at the violence imposed in it. The doors burst open to reveal King Peter and they gasped, quickly scattering throughout the room to allow him access to his sister. The very sight of their usually composed, regal King rendered the room's inhabitants speechless. He was sweating profusely, his hair in tangled disarray, protruding from all angles, his face was brilliantly red, and he was breathing so hard they thought he might drop on site out of sheer exhaustion, but perhaps what the most startling feature of all was his wild, grief-stricken expression. He looked positively crazed, there was no telling what this stranger that stood before them might do. With that hazy streak of madness in his eyes; he'd soon as slaughter them all.

Instead, King Peter's eyes locked on the dying Queen who lay unearthly still on a chaise, and the wildness faltered, faded, until all that was left was a terrified young man. Tears spilled and he weakly stumbled towards her, collapsing to his knees at her side. The servants and healers watched on in sadness. He clutched her hand tightly and raised the other to her bruised cheek, but didn't make contact, and instead lowered his shaking hand almost shamefully.

All of a sudden, Queen Lucy appeared in the doorway, breathing just as hard as her brother.

"Peter!" she exclaimed. "There's no time to lose."

She ripped the vial from her belt and ordered her stunned brother to hold the Queen's mouth ajar. A drop of the medicinal potion fell past Queen Susan's once vibrant and red but now gray and lifeless lips. The two royal siblings waited with bated breath for the cordial to do its work, and prayed that they were not too late.

--

They were too late.

It was all he could think of.

He hadn't gotten there fast enough; he wasn't there in time to save her.

If you repeat one sentence enough, it will surely drive you mad, as it drove him.

His hands felt slick and he curled them into fists before opening them again and held his palms up. They were stained a crimson red. _Her_ crimson.

Susan was dead.

Peter could hear his siblings calling out for him in the distance, crying his name, begging him to come back, trying to save him.

He didn't deserve to be saved.

He didn't save her.

Was life supposed to go on without her? What life? She was his life. He woke in the morning with her beautiful face in mind, he spent every minute he could in her presence, just waiting for the chance to make her smile, or even have the precious opportunity to be the cause of her laughter, to see her eyes light up and shine adoringly, to see her mouth part and curve and beckon. To be intoxicated by her voice, whether cross or convivial, and listen to every wonderful word she ever had to say, and never run out. He fell asleep every night to that same, angelic face, only to find it consumed his dream world as well.

Edmund called to him, called for his brother, pleaded for him to stay.

Susan didn't get to stay.

Lucy sobbed his name, tried to reach him, but he was lost to her now.

Susan was lost to them all.

HE SHOULD HAVE SAVED HER!

"Peter?" the most exquisite sound he would ever hear in his lifetime filtered into the haze.

The boy king blinked his eyes open, and tried to move, only to find he was agonizingly stiff from his position on the chair. He could hardly move his neck. Groaning, he massaged the kinks out. They really needed to get rid of the horrid thing. Blearily, he looked around the darkened room, knowing full and well where he was. His gaze landed on her and all trace of sleep vanished as he scrambled to her side.

"Is everything alright?" he asked worriedly, scanning over her quickly for anything out of the ordinary. Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, unplaited and free as she sat up in her bed with a coverlet spread over the lower half of her body. Her ethereal nightgown seemed to glow against the darkness. She had been sleeping.

"You were shouting again," Susan said soberly. "For me. Why won't you ever tell me what it is you keep having these nightmares about?"

He didn't know how to respond at first, never would he admit to her what his twisted mind contained. He would choose not to know it himself if such a thing were possible.

"It's nothing to concern yourself with," he said, brushing it off. "Now, are you sure you're-"

"I'm perfectly well." Susan rolled her eyes, having heard this too often. "And that's not good enough. I deserve to know what it is since I'm being awoken by it every night now…"

Guiltily, he lowered his eyes.

"Just tell me already!" she snapped impatiently. "What is it? Do I turn into some massive beast and start feeding on you all?"

Peter scoffed in disbelief.

"Well, what then?" she pressed stubbornly. "If not for some awful creature, why is it that you've screamed my name every night for the past week?"

He still wouldn't answer and after a long pause, she spoke again, and this time she appealed to him with compassion in her sincerity.

"Do you dream of me dying?"

The gentle tone seemed to make it worse, he felt even more uncomfortable because of it.

When her brother didn't indicate a response, his gaze fiercely and purposely directed elsewhere, Susan gave up on the matter entirely, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"You have to stop sleeping in the chair, Peter. Yesterday you could hardly walk, you were so sore. It's ridiculous for you to occupy it every night. Now, it's been a week yet since Lucy healed me. Why can you not accept it?"

If she sounded annoyed, she was glad. Peter was driving her insane with his over protectiveness. He absolutely refused to leave her alone for more than a few minutes at a time (the extent of how he relinquished his royal duties to that allow for that surprised her), he _attempted_ to forbid her from leaving the castle, and though he feigned retiring to his own room every night, she would wake in the morning to his sprawled form on the chair next to her bed. The chambermaids had even taken to leaving a folded blanket out for their king.

"I accept it," he echoed in a hollow protest.

Susan huffed in exasperation.

"Is it so wrong to be worried about you, Su?" he swallowed thickly. The memory of finding her so close to death was a scar he was certain would never fade.

Just like that, her annoyance vanished. How could she possibly fault him for tender concern? Her accident had affected Peter more than anyone, including herself. Lucy said that he was like a madman when he found out that she had been wounded. Aslan himself couldn't have stopped Peter from reaching her.

She could have kicked herself for being so stupidly obstinate. If she had just accepted Lucy's cordial in the first place, it would have saved everyone the trouble. A week later and she still felt twinges of guilt for being the source of her family's stress. Truly, she had believed that her injuries were not life threatening. All she wanted was to adhere to the pact the four of them made concerning Lucy's cordial. It was not to be used save for the greatest of extremities. How was she to know one of her cracked ribs would puncture a lung during the ride back and she would pass out from severe blood loss? If her sister had not been there in time, ignoring her order…how close…

Well, it mattered not. That was all over and done with. Within an hour of Lucy administering the medicinal drop, Susan was up and walking again as though nothing had ever happened at all. Peter looked far worse than she after that. Even Massius had commented on the king's "loss of color".

"No," she admitted gently. "I suppose not, but really, Peter, you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"I'm-" he began to say, but she cut him off fiercely.

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'I'm fine', I swear I shall slap you silly."

Susan had heard enough of that excuse for a good while yet.

Not knowing for sure if she was joking or not, for she had certainly said it dangerously enough, Peter wisely chose to seal his lips. They stayed that way in silence for a few moments, and he watched her closely as a striking change came over her. She looked panicked, curious, excited, fearful, and overjoyed all at once. He didn't know what to make of it, but a sense of dread washed over him in anticipation of what he somehow knew was to come.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked at last.

Guardedly, he could only reply, "What do you mean?"

"You didn't perch at Edmund's bedside every night after we nearly lost him. And yet…"

At a loss for words, Peter could only gape at her. Fear made his veins run cold and it was as though all the warmth in his body was sucked out in an instant. This was it. He could feel it.

"I-i-it's different," was all he managed to stutter.

His heart beat wildly against his chest and he struggled to control his breathing so as to remain composed in front of her. She couldn't see how he was reacting; there was still a chance.

"Why is it different?" she pressed.

"It's not! It's not d-different. Never mind that. I don't know what you're going on about!"

Please, he begged, appealing to Aslan, or any other entity that would have the power to save him, he wasn't sure. Please, don't let her know.

But Susan was undeterred. "Would you do the same for Lucy? It's not that you don't care for them as much as you care for me, I'm not saying that at all. Though…I wonder if you…care for me in another way that sets us apart?"

Never had a room spun before as Susan's bedchamber swirled around him now.

Attempting poorly to continue his feigned innocence, he said, "I don't know what you're talking about." His throat threatened to close on him entirely and he finished hoarsely, "How absurd. You're my sister, what else is there?"

At a stalemate, they remained there in quietude; neither was willing to break it as they stared at the other. Peter only hoped the expression on his face would read as confusion, not the sheer terror that imprisoned him now. Just when he thought he would certainly come undone, she exhaled, the sound amplified in the vacuum between them. To his astonishment and utmost solace, she had relented.

"Never mind then, let's forget it."

He nearly sobbed with relief.

Nodding in agreement, Peter inwardly rejoiced at the narrow escape, and his body began to return to normalcy, his life in his hands once more. Susan fiddled with her comforter for a moment, flattening out the wrinkles with her palm, and then turned up to him. "You should go back to your chamber…get some rest."

Reluctant, but resolute, he agreed. As always, he didn't want to leave her, but it was imperative that he did - now more than ever. They didn't have a choice.

"Goodnight, Peter," she said. The sadness in her tender parting puzzled him, but before he could anatomize it further, she leaned forward to brush a kiss against his cheek.

The unexpected gesture stunned him into submission and he froze there, holding his breath, unwilling to move a whit. For the first time, Susan seemed to register this reaction, and held herself there, a mere few inches away from his face. Her sweet breath on his skin, she placed her hand on his cheek, and turned him towards her. Almost as a test of sorts, she gauged him carefully as she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. A kiss that was so far beyond anything they had allowed of themselves before. Despite his valorous intentions, a strange sort of heat overwhelmed Peter and he could hardly bear it. The next thing he knew, Susan had leaned in again and was kissing him passionately. It took him too long to realize how hungrily he was kissing her back and leaping back as though he had been scorched; Peter turned on his heel and ran out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

He failed

The thought resonated over and over again. He had failed to protect them. In the end, he was too weak. Why did this have to happen? He swore it wouldn't! Figures. He never had much strength to begin with. It wasn't until Aslan placed an enormous, solemn paw on his shoulder and told him to rise as a knight, as man, that he truly believed he could be more. Stupidly believed…

Damn her for getting herself injured like that! He had it all worked out!

Once the remaining insurgents were wiped out and Narnia faced no threat, Peter planned on leaving. After last week's nightmare and Susan's loving care, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer. He would have to leave before his willpower gave out and he destroyed them both. After a great deal of thought, Peter decided he would travel to the neighboring kingdoms under the guise of building their foreign relations (what better sign of goodwill than to have the High King himself journeying to your court?). It was the perfect excuse, calling for him to be absent for at least a year, perhaps more. That way he would have been able to escape her, gather his strength, and give him time to get over the feelings he unwillingly possessed for his sister, surely time was all he needed. Susan and Edmund were more than capable of taking over his duties for the time being.

It was all worked out so carefully. Peter had an entire scenario planned out in his head. At first his siblings would be surprised by the news, then upset. They would protest his leaving on such a long endeavor, but he would be firm and eventually they would come around. Lucy would miss him, Edmund would be worried (and the tiniest bit envious), and Susan…well, Susan would be disappointed. It's for the best, he could imagine saying, and her sensible nature would win over, causing her to agree.

He would make the arrangements to leave in the next week, and before his departure, all three would come to see him off in the dawn. He would be hugged and kissed goodbye. Susan would sternly tell him to be careful, and be wary of Telmarines in the deep waters. He could imagine Lucy asking who the Telmarines were, in her childish innocence. The sordid news of piracy on the high seas was not an affair that she was ready to be involved with just yet. Susan would curtly explain their rare but proven existence, and Edmund would poke fun, talking about the 'dashing, swashbuckling pirates' of story tales. Ignoring Edmund, Lucy would embrace her eldest brother one more time, squeezing tightly round his waist, clinging despondently. Peter could feel her small arms around him. Edmund would wish him luck and joke that the High King better not fall in, but there would be a tone of grave sincerity behind it all.

Before he turned to leave, his gaze would fall upon her one more time. He would try to memorize her face, only to realize that there was no need, for he already had. His heart would threaten to drop out and he would feel the earth shifting under his feet, drawing upon unearthly magic to hold him there with her. He would resist the unspoken call, the force that drove him to and now so far from her. Susan would kiss him on the cheek and embrace him again, lingering just a little longer than anyone else (as she always did). He would find a strength within him, summoning every resource he had to make him leave his beloved sister, to do what was right for them both. Then Peter would walk away, his back turned as he went up the plank. They would watch as he sailed off into the rapidly approaching morning light and disappearing hours later on the horizon.

He would never do that now.

He had a plan! And it was shot to hell the moment his eyes landed on Lucy riding towards them. Why did Susan have to go and fall of that miserable tree? Why did the tree have to throw her off? The whole endeavor was a ridiculous and foolhardy tactic that put her directly in harms way, he should never have approved of it. So what if they suffered no casualties and the battle was an overwhelming victory? He never should have allowed her to join the fight in the first place. Not that it would have been a successful argument…but he should have tried nonetheless! Now look what was left of them. That damn tree! After Susan was healed, he demanded to know which one it was so that he could have it chopped into royal kindling. Unfortunately, she refused to say and even went on to tell him to "stop being so dramatic".

Damn her! Damn her for making him feel this way, for making him desire her, love her, covet her. How he hated her for it! Hated her for going to battle, hated her for getting hurt, hated her for kissing him.

Peter was so startled; he tripped over his own feet and landed face down on the dirt dusted stones of the pavilion. He didn't realize he had been running the whole way. With a slight wince, he rolled over and lay flat on his back to stare at the stars. His knees were slightly scraped and throbbed as he lay there, but it barely registered, for Peter was overtaken by something far more important. The night sky seemed to pulse over him, and with every beat, the stars grew closer, until he thought he could reach out and hold a twinkling dot in his hand.

Susan kissed _him_.

Not the other way around.

He hadn't lost control and leapt upon her.

She asked it of him.

And he didn't imagine it.

Then, with a daring grin, Peter knew what to do.

--

It became unbearable, heavy and stifling; she couldn't stay there one second more. She needed to breathe, and with that, Susan flung open the glass-pane doors and walked out onto her balcony. Her hands clutched the cool stone as she tried to take comfort in the still calm of the night. A breeze blew softly around her, rousing the lightest of tendrils across her face. Her silk, white nightgown swayed gently and she clasped her arms around her, though there was no chill. None of it helped. Not one bit. She tried to hold on, tried to keep it together, but at that moment she lost the battle and dissolved into tears. Sobs wracked her body and she only clutched herself tighter, as every raking emotion was drawn to the surface.

This was so much more than a simple case of rejection. The pain she felt now was indescribable, the shame, the humiliation, the loss, and indeed she had lost him. How could she have made such a thoughtless mistake? It was so unlike her! Impulsivity just wasn't in her genetic makeup and then she goes and makes a spur of the moment decision to kiss her brother!? One of the most consequential decisions of her life and she did it without thinking it through in the slightest. Now she was made out to be a fool – a whorish, unthinking fool.

Peter never expressed the slightest romantic interest in her, those little flashes where she thought she saw something more were completely fabricated. It was all in her head. The way he shoved her back…the horror as he gaped at her… oh, why could the earth not open and swallow her whole just then? That way she wouldn't have to endure the agony she was ever so quickly drowning in. He never thought of her as more than his sister and in that jarring mistake, Susan had thrown away their entire relationship. How could Peter ever look at her the same way again, knowing the true extent of her feelings? How could she look at him and not feel ashamed? They would never be the same again and it was all her fault. Her fault because she had not the sense nor the constraint to keep her emotions in check, instead she had to be-

"Susan," his voice rumbled deeply from behind her.

Gasping, she quickly wiped away her remaining tears and tried to regain her composure, though that was unlikely to be a success at this point. Still, she kept her back to him, not wanting him to see her like this; it could only make things that much more uncomfortable for them. He didn't need to know how much it hurt, how deeply it ran. Knowing Peter as she did, he would feel forever guilty for causing her pain, no matter how illogical said guilt might be.

When his warm, heavy hands rested upon her shoulders, Susan's entire body jerked in a visceral response. For a moment she wondered if the weight upon her shoulders was imagined and he had never touched her at all, but when his breath tickled her ear and she could feel how close his lips were…she knew this was all very real.

"I have something to ask of you," he whispered huskily and she nearly melted on the spot.

Alarms were going off in her head and thousands of questions spiraled as she fought to discern what was going on. Why did he come back? What changed? This wasn't the Peter she experienced not ten minutes ago, the one who had pushed her away as though she were the most vile thing he had ever laid eyes upon. This one was speaking to her as a means to caress her, as a lover would whisper through the darkness across the sheets… Or was this too a figment of her imagination?

Susan was too afraid to speak just then, she didn't even think her tongue would work if she tried, so instead she weakly nodded her assent.

"You kissed me," Peter said. "I want to know why."

He couldn't have asked her a more heart wrenching question.

Anxious and shaking, Susan tucked her hair behind her ear before hastily waving him away. "Don't. We can forget it ever happened. It was an awful, senseless mistake on my part. Let's never speak of it again."

His hands fell from her shoulders and she instantly mourned the loss, but he didn't move away. "Do you really believe it was a mistake?"

"Yes!" she said truthfully. "I would take it back in a trice if I could."

"But you can't take it back," Peter persisted. "You did kiss me, Su. And I want to know why."

"What does it matter?" she fought back the tears at the base of her throat. "What answer do you wish me to give?"

Even as she said the words, she began to piece together his behavior with heightened reservation. He wanted her to say it aloud, but to what end? This place was so familiar, a reverse of some effect, yet she couldn't pinpoint it. Déjà vu was probably the best term she could find to describe the nagging feeling.

Obviously, Peter understood what her actions meant; he could be dense at times, but never unintelligent. Pushing her as he was now, fishing for a specific answer, he wanted confirmation, was desperate for it, but why be so frantic for an answer that would only further deconstruct what was once a treasured bond? Unless there was something to be gained… And then she realized exactly where this had happened before.

"Just tell me," he implored her.

"I asked you first!" she threw back.

Were they not having this same conversation fifteen minutes ago? Only Susan was the one searching. Could it be that they were looking for the same thing of the other? Was she still deluding herself?

"Susan…" he sighed and though her back was still to him, she could picture his head tilting to the side in that oh-so endearing way of his.

"It can't help to have me say it, please, leave it be."

"I _have_ to know."

The rawness in his plea tore through her very foundation and then it became impossible not to do anything he asked of her.

Besides, Susan decreed, the damage was already done. She might as well have it all out in the open; there was nothing more to gain from keeping silent. So she gathered every trembling nerve of courage in her body, twisted round, looked up squarely into his clear blue eyes, and said simply, "I'm in love with you."

Her voice did not crack or give any sign of uncertainty, because there was none.

He may never love her in return, they may never be the way they were, but she would not and could not deny her own feelings. "Nothing more, nothing less. It may be wr-"

She could say no more than that for Peter had attacked her mouth ravenously, devouring her whole, and in that ardent suspended continuum Susan knew nothing more of their world but _him_.

Perhaps there was something to be said for impulsivity after all.

--

So much time passed, they knew not whether it was minutes, hours, or days. It simply didn't matter. They could have stayed that way until both their bodies dropped of exhaustion, and it may very well have come to that had not Susan intervened.

He kissed her thoroughly and with urgency, clutching as though he were a man dying and her touch was the only thing keeping him from falling into the abyss. She knew they had to talk, so many questions unanswered, but it was impossible to cease kissing him. He felt too good, it felt too right. Just another minute, she told herself, and then they would discuss it, calmly, rationally… As the deadline passed, again and again, and yet again, she reasoned that such a conversation could wait a bit longer. Really, what was the hurry?

An involuntary moan escaped her mouth as Peter pressed into her against the balcony. Before she really knew it happened, he lifted her onto the flat edge and her legs parted, wrapping securely around his waist. They had waited so long for this… His breath was hot and heavy, and Susan grasped the material of his nightshirt, pulling upwards until she made contact with the hard flesh underneath. He gasped her name and she was roughly yanked upwards by his hands below her hips. When he broke away to find the sensitive skin at her throat and bare shoulder, and give them respite to breathe, Susan finally had a chance to remember what it was they had to do.

"Peter…" she tried to be authoritative, but it ended up coming out as a moan, spurring him further. In a frenzied search, his lips found hers again and hands became entangled in her hair. "Peter!" she huffed, wanting to be bothered by his single-mindedness and failed miserably.

The only response was a slight nonsensical utterance that indicated he heard. Tongues became tangled once again, and it took her a little while to find breath again.

"P-Peter," she gasped at last between kisses. "We – have to – mmm – talk!"

"I thought we did talk," he mumbled distractedly. Fingers ran along her sides before hooking behind her knee to pull her even closer (as if there were still space left between them).

"We – oh! – have more – to say," Susan replied and wound her hands behind his neck, pulling down as her tongue lashed out teasingly across his throat.

To that he groaned, "Su, you'll always have more to say."

She was satisfied by the slight yelp he gave when she bit down.

Smiling from ear to ear, Peter chuckled at his punishment and kissed her again lingeringly. Acceding to her request, he managed hoarsely, "Yes…talk…"

When he took a deep breath and tore himself away with a step, the loss of his warmth made Susan regret ever saying anything at all. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and snatch him back where he belonged, but her need for answers won out over her thirst for him (for now).

The fever he had incurred soared to new heights when Susan saw him clearly again. She swallowed thickly at the magnificent vision. Peter was hunched over slightly, panting, with his blonde hair tousled messily over his eyes. His round lips were swollen and wet with her kisses. He was the epitome of desire. It was only a thin line of self-control that teetered in holding them apart. Standing there in silence for a moment, their bodies still wracked with lust and overwhelming need for the other, Susan tried to think of what it was they needed to say, to clear her passion-fogged mind.

It surprised her when Peter spoke first.

"Are you afraid?" His voice was barely above that of a whisper, almost carried away entirely by the wind.

"Afraid?" she echoed, a frown etching onto her face. "How could I be afraid of you?"

The boy-king exhaled harshly and looked past her, into the black forest below. "Not of me," he gruffly replied.

This was no less confusing to Susan, so she only stared, entreating him silently to continue. At her befuddlement, Peter mirrored the frown.

"About us!" he said incredulously. "About people finding out…"

Her heart skipped a beat and she felt sick all of a sudden. "You're ashamed of…_us_?" she uttered weakly. Of me, was what she really meant, but had not the courage just then to voice it. A wave of nausea poured over her as the words were spoken aloud. She hadn't seen this coming.

Peter, however, was completely flabbergasted. "Susan! You can't mean to tell me that you don't find anything…_unseemly_ about this?!" He choked over the word.

Oh, she was certain she would be sick. Susan shakily set herself down off the balcony edge, and swayed slightly on her feet before righting herself.

"If I am so reprehensible, Peter, why did you return? Why did we just-"

After a sudden cry of "Su!" his lips were fierce on hers. When Peter finally pulled back, just staying a few inches away, he said harshly, "Don't ever say that again! I could never…" he shook his head, too overcome to continue for a moment, and then he attempted another way. "I love you, Susan. My whole life…in all the wrong ways… I tried not to. I really did, but it couldn't be helped. I never thought you would…" he sighed and his torturously perfect lips curved into a slight smile despite himself.

"What are you saying then?" Susan replied, wholly and completely lost. "You love me or you despise me? Pick one; because at the moment I am having trouble deciding what is you truly hold for me!"

Diamond blue irises locked on her, those kind eyes, so loving, so fierce; she melted at the meeting. "I only meant what others will have to say about us, Su," he said sadly. "I don't know why this happened, but it did."

Unable to take any more of this confusion, Susan pushed him away, holding her hands up to try and make sense of his cryptic chatter.

"Others? Do you mean Edmund and Lucy? Peter, I'm sure they'll be fine about this. Lucy's been beleaguering me for weeks to say something to you. In fact, she'll probably be delighted to hear it."

With the way he looked at her, she might as well have told him the sky was green, down was up, and the White Witch was the true ruler of Narnia. He turned a ghastly shade of pale. "W-what? Lucy…knows!?"

"I can't understand how you're getting all aflutter over this. Since when do the opinions of our brother and sister mean so much to you? You've gladly steamrolled over them a hundred times before. What makes this any different? And that's under your assumption that they will somehow find an objection to us…"

"You're my sister!" he cried in disbelief. "I believe the objection is quite clear!"

At Susan's blank stare, Peter blinked in realization. It all made sense now. Mouth and shoulders slackened as he shook his head in amazement. "You don't remember."

"Remember what?" she shot back, slightly indignant at the suggestion that there was perhaps something she had failed to be cognizant of.

The whole exchange had her at the end her rope. Right now, all she really wanted to do was pull the covers over her head and sleep for a month. To go from being horribly rejected, to confusion, to love, to ecstasy, to shame, and back to confusion again was far more than one could be expected to handle in a single hour. Maybe when she woke it would have all righted itself.

Suddenly weary, Peter went past her to sit on the balcony railing, but Susan remained standing. With his hands folded in his lap, he told her. How it was forbidden at home, how they would have been judged, disowned, ostracized by society as a whole. Susan's mouth parted in astonishment and he knew that it had sparked some recollection in her. Her lovely eyes narrowed in severity, though it was not directed at him or anything else in particular. With a soft exhale, she seated herself beside him, and he could just see the inner workings of her mind, piecing everything together. Peter told her how terrified he was that something was wrong with him – for having these feelings. At that, she took his cool hand in hers and pressed her lips to his knuckles. Then she explained how she too had those thoughts, that what she felt for him was somehow illicit or amoral, but had never been able to understand why.

They talked without an acknowledgment of time; the very concept could not exist for them in those hours. The world may as well have stopped moving, because it no longer moved to them. They spoke until the sun began to peek over the horizon, and even then it was not finished.

Susan reassured Peter that they would not be condemned, that in Narnia, such a union was perfectly acceptable, especially among royalty. At that point though, Peter no longer cared. He didn't care what other people would think or say, he didn't care that Susan was his sister, he didn't care what would happen at home. She was all he needed, as it had always been. And by some miraculous stroke of fate, he had her.

With a smile, Susan caressed his cheek lovingly.

Peter gazed at her wonderingly, a touch of bittersweet in his eyes. "You really don't remember much of home, do you?"

She nodded in admittance. "With each passing day, I seem to recall less and less of our…former lives? It is more than Edmund, and certainly more than Lucy, but, as it seems, less than you."

He reached for her hand, weaving their fingers together. "What _do_ you remember?"

"Odd bits and pieces, really, tiny fragments of years. The snipers? That I remember because I can still see you sitting by the fire, night after night, listening to news of that war. You were always so solemn then, wanting to do something and able to do nothing."

"Until we came here…"

"Yet another war," she said forlornly. "Only in that one, we could make a difference; we had a reason, a purpose, a standing presence in which our opinions mattered. We could change things."

"We did change things," Peter corrected her.

Tilting her head absently, she traced an invisible brand over the back of his hand. "I remember our mother - what her hair smelled like, how she hugged me goodbye, what she said to me…what she said to you…before we left her. I don't recall why we had to leave."

"It was too dangerous to stay," he answered quietly.

"Oh, yes," she said, acknowledging that he had just proved her point. "War. Always such an ugly, vile affair; I detest war. It destroys people's lives, if not by ending them in death, then tearing loved ones apart. It seems to touch all with a dark scar that cannot ever be healed."

Peter couldn't help but agree; he hated fighting as much as the next person, but he knew of its crucial purpose and that there were times when it was unavoidable. "It comes at a grave cost," he admitted, "but it is not without its rewards."

"For the victor," Susan said somewhat bitterly.

"We would not be here if it were not for the war at home," he postulated, "and Narnia would still be frozen under the tyranny of the White Witch had we not fought her."

"Of course. If there were nothing to gain then it would not be done."

In her sigh, Peter knew that was a signal for the subject to be held off for another time. The morning light began to grow stronger, he could now see the fields aglow in the silver mist, the trees rustled and quivered as though just waking themselves. He helped Susan to her feet and together they walked back into her chamber. The chair wholly forgotten, they slipped into Susan's bed together and lay face to face. She reached her arm across his waist and entwined their legs with an innocent sort of curiosity. Delirious and eager, Peter closed the remaining space between them, from feet to legs to stomachs to chests; every inch of them was plied against the other. They had shared a bed before, of course, but never quite like this, when they were allowed to be as close and intimate as they so chose. There were no boundaries to remember, lines to be drawn, they could just simply be.

Playfully, they explored the other in easy caresses, some feather light, others more purposeful, skin on skin, silk on silk, goose bumps and tickles, amidst a constant stream of giggles and whispers. Both knew that it would not go beyond that, an unspoken agreement, so it relieved the pressure one might have felt otherwise. Peter twisted the fine strands of her silken hair round his fingers with a smile on his lips that threatened to become a permanent fixture.

Susan spoke again, in a quiet voice so he knew her words were meant for only him. "The harder I try to grasp the memories, the quicker they slip away, as though I am recalling a dream. The images become hazy and soon I forget them altogether."

"Does it worry you?"

"It used to…but now I think, this is our home, not that other place. This is where we belong. I've never felt more right or complete than when I am on our thrones. It is who we are." She laughed softly, "Sometimes I fancy we made it all up, a fantastical little story about falling out of a magical wardrobe. Who knows what our lives were like before? I only know what they are now. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Yes…" he murmured, taking it in.

"Here we can love and are loved without scrutiny or shame, who cares what some past life tries to tell us? We're not those people anymore, not the children who came stumbling into roles of royalty."

He picked up her line of thought. "Whatever they think at home…or whatever that place was…it doesn't matter. Cair Paravel is our home now, Narnia is where we belong." After a pause, he murmured mostly for himself, "Why waste another moment on a causeless torment?"

Susan's eyelids fluttered under the threat of exhaustion and she yawned. The sun had since risen; all of Narnia would be awakening.

"How can such an extraordinary thing be considered so ugly? I denounce whatever dares to try and turn it so," she said sleepily. "We don't choose who we love, we only love as we are meant to."

"You believe I am meant to love you?"

Pausing thoughtfully, Susan replied with careful reservation, "I am not so certain…that love could ever be a mistake."

"Even this love?"

"What is so different about this love?"

Peter could only shake his head.

"Well, don't look so surprised!" she laughed and the sound rang beautifully in his ears.

"Oh, but I am!" he replied in earnest. "It is rather a strange thing to be hearing from you. Talk of belief…you are always the last to be convinced. Do you recall what you said when we first discovered this place? '_Impossible_!' you whispered. Whatever happened to the daughter of reason?"

"She's still there, having found reason enough for belief," Susan countered with ease.

"And what of logic?" he pressed.

A mischievous smirk appeared on her face as she played along with his fun. "Logic has only complied with my reason thus far."

"I daresay one would be hard pressed to find logic in something as unexplainable as love," he teased.

"You underestimate me then."

"Never!" he breathed.

After a deep, languorous kiss that was unmistakably filled with promises, reassurance, and a future, Susan snuggled into his chest as Peter lay back against the pillows. Slowly, but surely, they drifted off into dreams that were not unlike actuality; as they would do every night after, save rare exceptions, for many years to come.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Weeks passed as they carried out their newfound relationship in secret. Peter, though increasingly more confident in them, still harbored a residual fear of backlash. Sometimes it was to the point where Susan wanted to shake him silly, but she did her best to reassure him and respected his wishes. She didn't mind all too much keeping their affection private, it really was no one else's affair, but she didn't live in the fear that they would be caught either (as Peter did). It was also difficult for her to hide from Lucy and Edmund, Lucy in particular. That girl wanted to know everything and anything, and more often than not, got what she wanted. Other than some kind friends in the court, Lucy was the one Susan confided in for matters that could not be told to anyone else. Their sisterly bond only grew with time and age as they began to rely on each other in a more equatorial relationship. Susan only hoped that when Peter finally did come to terms with his fears, Lucy wouldn't be cross with them for lying.

In public they carried themselves as they always did, only now the sly glances and shy smiles were meant to be seen by the other and not hidden from. Often they would excuse themselves from a particular function or duty, only to meet behind a nearby curtain, under a stairwell, or any unoccupied room to cling to each other. Those were brief meetings, hardly fulfilling. They were only meant to stave off complete starvation during the day, to tide them over until they could truly be together at night.

They hadn't made love as of yet, an agreement on both their parts. Too much, too soon. They wanted to take their time in getting to know each other in this new way. It would happen when they were ready, and until then… Well, Susan could only say that Peter learned very, very quickly…

Summer came quickly for Narnia, and on a particularly fine day, they were able to finagle time away from the castle together. Far away from any roving eyes, they settled at the edge of a meadow, horses grazing nearby as their King and Queen idled the away the warm summer afternoon. Susan rested her back at the base of a tall tree, reading, while Peter lay at her feet on his stomach in the grass, dozing peacefully.

They were grateful for the time alone; the palace had been too chaotic in the past week. It was a constant flurry of people, dignitaries, suitors (for Lucy), and Edmund had even gotten into a scuffle with the prince of Archenland, nearly putting Narnia at war with her sisterland. Fortunately, after a great deal of exhaustive deliberation, Peter was able to come to a tentative understanding with the prince's father, which, among other things, required an apology from Edmund. His brother, though repentant for the strain it put on their relationship with Archenland, staunchly refused to say what it was that caused such uncharacteristic behavior. He wanted to push the matter more, but Susan advised him to leave it alone for the time being.

Unbeknownst to Peter, she had been sworn to secrecy, forbidden to tell him that Lucy confided in her the reason. The prince had made unwanted, lewd advances toward their youngest sister, and Edmund, witnessing this by chance, lost his head. Neither one would offer further details, but Susan understood they meant to keep it between them as a personal matter.

Lucy seemed somewhat embarrassed by it all; she was still very young and unused to being pursued by men, let alone aggressively. Knowing her brother as she did, Susan guessed that Edmund was still furious over the incident, but was doing his best to protect her by not turning it into an enormous ordeal. In turn, Lucy urged him not to tell Peter because they both knew their brother would be forced to end ties with Archenland, and it would not be in their kingdom's best interest. Reluctantly, Edmund agreed, feeling the matter was somewhat settled, having dealt the prince his punishment in the way of a bloodied nose and a nasty shiner.

Needless to say, it had been a difficult week, and they were both grateful for the reprieve. Susan's bare feet nudged Peter out of his lazy musings and he lifted his head inquiringly, but she only smiled at him.

"Yes, my Queen?"

She bit her lip shyly, and averted her eyes. "Nothing, nothing at all."

He didn't believe that for a second, and quickly crawled to her side. She tried to go back to reading her book, but he lifted it away. To her glare of indignation, he looked at her expectantly.

"It's nothing!" she protested.

"Tell me what you were thinking about," he prodded teasingly, having dropped the book behind his back so she would have to reach around him to retrieve it.

"I don't wish to tell you," she replied haughtily, crossing her arms a sign of conviction.

"Perhaps you were thinking about how handsome I am," he offered coyly, sweeping his hand over her dress covered thigh to rest comfortably at her waist.

Susan scoffed in disbelief. "Really! Yes, Peter, that is what I spend my days ruminating over. _Your looks_."

"So you don't think I'm handsome?"

"Not particularly," she responded smartly.

To that, he had no choice but to kiss her. When he broke away, leaving them both short of breath, Susan narrowed her eyes at him before placing both hands on his face and pulled him back to her lips. With the force of her embrace, Peter lost his balance and they tumbled backwards onto the grass, their laughter echoing through the meadow. It was a long while before conversation began again as they rolled back and forth, tongues tangling, lips searching, hands roaming, as the lovers became lost in their summer day.

Susan lay on her back, her dark hair splayed out in contrast against the green floor, while Peter hovered above her on his side. He entwined his hand with hers lovingly and propped his head up on his elbow.

"Will I always be able to kiss you like this?" he asked.

Susan rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist a smile. "Not _always_. That would be impractical."

"Most of the time then?"

"When it's appropriate," she nodded thoughtfully. "And if you haven't been particularly pig-headed…"

"I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed. "I am not pig-headed!"

Susan chose to ignore his brand of denial and tugged lightly on his tunic. "Will _I_ always be able to kiss you like this?" she repeated teasingly.

Still a bit disgruntled, Peter made a face. "Not really feeling up to it at the moment."

She bit back her laughter, and replied, "Oh, really? We'll see about that then." Before Peter could say otherwise, she shoved him onto his back and stretched out languidly on top of him.

"Are you _sure_ you're not up to it?" she asked, her beautiful face lingered over him invitingly. Her long hair fell forward, shadowing her features, and Peter couldn't resist tucking it behind her ear.

They kissed gently, but when Peter went to deepen it, Susan stopped them. Frowning, he watched her, awaiting some explanation. A thoughtful expression came over her, one he knew so very well, and her ever studious gaze peered over him in silence.

"Do you still wish to know what I was thinking about earlier?"

He gave a curious nod in reply.

Susan touched her fingertips to his jaw, following the line with the lightest caress. "I was thinking how much I love you. And that I wish we will always be this way, happy, in love…at peace." Her smooth brow wrinkled, "Do you think I ask for too much?"

"Hardly," Peter snorted. "If anything, you require too little."

She made a small 'hm' sound and laid her cheek on his chest. Peter wrapped his arms around her tightly, his chin atop her head. "If you asked for more, anything more, I would find a way to give it to you," he swore in all sincerity.

"I know," was all she replied and they stayed there together until the twilight came and all of Cair Paravel called their sovereigns home.

--

The fair-haired Queen searched the castle high and low for any sign of her missing sister. The handmaidens had not seen her, nor had the kitchen staff, the gardeners, the stable attendants, Mr. Tumnus, Massius, or even Mr. and Mrs. Beaver.

"Edmund!" she called rather crossly and her brother turned around. "Have you seen Susan? She's positively vanished."

"I'm not her keeper, Lu," he shrugged and walked off, but added without stopping, "Try the archive, she's been spending most her days there."

Lucy made a face at the suggestion. The library? What would Susan be doing cooped up in the library when they were graced with such fantastic weather? Since she had already exhausted all the other options, the library was her only choice. Sighing, Lucy ran off to find her eldest sister.

With a bang, she flung open the doors to the castle's world renowned athenaeum, in which scholars from all corners of the country regularly journeyed to Narnia to study.

There was a heavy gasp and several books crashed onto the floor, Lucy could have sworn she heard whispers… Peering round the large, rounded room that was lined from wall to wall with all sorts of books one could imagine, the shelves stretching from floor to ceiling, there was nary a soul to be found. There were four levels to the room, a balcony surrounding each floor that you accessed by a winding staircase. So rather than think there was a spirit haunting their archive, Lucy went into the very middle and tilted her head back to see the entire gallery.

"Lucy?" Susan appeared at the railing of the second balcony, looking flushed and bewildered with glassy eyes. Her hair was wild and her dress unkempt, as though she just ran a length of the castle grounds.

"Susan?" she replied inquisitively and an eyebrow rose at her sister's oddball behavior.

"Is there something the matter?" she asked breathlessly.

The elder Queen seemed anxious to be rid of her, her eyes darting round spuriously, but Lucy didn't give it a second thought.

"Did we not have archery lessons planned for this afternoon?"

Her sister gasped and smacked her palm to her cheek in realization. "Lucy, I'm so sorry! I _completely_ forgot."

"Apparently!" she sniped. "Just hurry then."

Her hesitation wasn't lost on the younger girl; she knew what was to come next.

"Er – I thought perhaps we might reschedule for tom-"

"Susan!" Lucy cut her off with a dejected cry. "You promised you would! How will I ever be skilled enough with the bow if we keep on like this?"

As soon as the last sentence left her mouth, Lucy knew she shouldn't have pushed it so far and winced. Susan pursed her lips skeptically and peered down at her. "I wasn't the one who was late the last three times in a row with a pitiful excuse of 'losing time'…"

Guiltily, her eyes shifted elsewhere and she clasped her hands behind her back. "Well…I suppose I could forgive you just this once…"

Susan scoffed and rolled her eyes playfully. "Very well then, go fetch your bow. I'll meet you at the target range."

Pleased that she had won, Lucy grinned up at her and was just about to spin around to leave when she once again noticed the state of disarray her sister was in.

"Is…everything alright?" she inquired hesitantly.

Strangely flustered, Susan responded quickly, "Of course! Just fine. Go on then," she waved her off, "I'll be there shortly."

Thinking it was odd, but nothing more, the young Queen left to find her things, hoping she had not misplaced them after the last time…

By the time she arrived at the practice range, Susan was already there waiting for her with her quiver strapped to her back and Father Christmas's bow in hand.

"Are you about ready?" the raven haired Queen asked impatiently.

Lucy only looked at her sheepishly before procuring her bow (which she had indeed misplaced momentarily). They shot off a few arrows, Lucy had improved since they first began their lessons and could now hit the actual target board more often than not! Susan left her bow aside as she corrected her sister's form and gave her tips along the way. "Careful, don't draw back so far, just touch your chin. That's it. Relax your grip, not quite so hard, yes. Elbow straight, don't waver."

The latest arrow just barely embedded itself in the outside edge of the target and Lucy groaned in disappointment. "Oh, I shall never get better at this."

"Don't say that," Susan clucked her tongue reprovingly. "You must keep at it." She motioned for her to take up the next arrow and Lucy reluctantly did so. "Try again, but this time, keep your sight on the target before you draw. Know what you want to strike before pulling back, that way it will be a smoother motion. Just relax, be still and…"

Lucy let the arrow fly and when it nearly hit the bull's-eye, she leapt for joy, squealing, "Oh, did you see that!?" Susan laughed and smiled down at her with shining eyes. Lucy couldn't resist jumping into her sister's arms to give her a quick squeeze before continuing her victory dance.

A clapping noise from behind them startled the two girls who had thought they were alone. Spinning round, Lucy couldn't help how her face fell at the sight. The prince of Archenland crossed his arms superciliously with a sickly smirk permanently shaping his mouth.

"Oh, our apologies, Prince Afton," Susan held back a grimace and did her best to sound cordial as she was required by etiquette to be. "We were not aware there was anyone else near."

"Not at all, Your Majesty," he waved her off. "I was simply out for a walk around your lovely grounds and happened to see you two practicing your archery. Going well? It is a rather difficult skill to master…"

Susan's eyes narrowed into a momentary glare at the condescending tone before she recovered and replied tersely, "Yes…there is much practice required."

He shrugged and walked over to a nearby bow that lay with the other extras used for training, picking it off the ground. "It's not for everyone, and of course there is no shame in admitting it. Real archers have to have extraordinary talent and determination to exceed above all others. I myself have been trained by the finest in the Archenland army."

In a blink of an eye, he notched an arrow, raised the bow and hit the target Lucy had been using dead center. Cockily, he glanced back over at them, his smirk having grown more prominent. "Not bad?"

Susan fought the urge to roll her eyes and only nodded slightly in polite acknowledgement. When Afton's gaze locked onto Lucy, lecherously roving over her body, she could do nothing but blush in embarrassment, hating how he made her skin crawl with shame. The incident a few days ago still pressed on her thoughts. Susan almost snatched her bow just then to sever a certain appendage of his body.

"Not bad at all," Peter answered from beside them, saving Susan from a similar untimely mishap as Edmund's.

The two girls whirled around to see the blonde King approach the target with both Lucy and Afton's arrows embedded in it. After inspecting them, he pulled both out, unceremoniously dropping them to the ground.

"Your Highness," Afton gave a slight bow of acknowledgement. "I was not aware you had returned."

"We didn't expect you back until nightfall," Lucy smiled, relieved her brother had arrived.

No one seemed to notice Susan's sly glance at the inquiries, no one except for Peter who returned it with a secretive grin of his own.

"Yes, I was fortunate to finish quickly in the Shuddering Wood. The matter was taken care of."

"We should all go back in then," Lucy suggested hopefully, anything to get them out of the obtrusive situation. "To discuss it further…"

Susan was about to follow along with her lead, when Peter shook his head, having other ideas. "Oh, not just yet." He leveled his gaze at the chestnut haired prince, a determined look on his face. "That was all very well and good," he said, gesturing to the bow Afton held, "but I was hoping we might give my sister a chance for rebuttal. It is only fair."

Lucy lit up at the suggestion, and looked to Susan gleefully. "Oh, yes, Susan! It's your turn!"

If anyone were able to put Afton in his place, it would be her.

"Yes?" Susan replied innocently, playing along. "Shall I?"

"By all means, Your Majesty, please," Afton chuckled, confident that his shot would not be outdone. Lucy couldn't wait, the man deserved to be taken down a dozen pegs or so…

Peter and Susan shared a knowing gaze before he knelt down to pick up a stray pinecone on the ground. Placing himself squarely in front of the target, Peter put the pinecone on top of his head and then crossed his arms in anticipation.

At first confused by what the King was doing, Afton furrowed his square brow, and when he saw Susan notch her arrow, he rapidly grasped what they planned to do. Aghast by the danger of their undertaking, he stammered, "Uh…sire, are you ever certain this is _appropriate_?"

"Why not?"

"You'll be killed!" he cried in disbelief. "Few in the country, let alone the world, would be able to manage such a thing!"

Peter feigned an expression of surprise. "Oh, then you admit you would not be able to make the shot?"

The dark challenge in his voice wasn't lost on the prince and Peter refocused on Susan without waiting for an answer. "Ready?"

Susan almost laughed at his unfailing confidence. "But, my lord," she replied teasingly, "what if my aim fails to be true and Narnia is denied its High King?"

"Then I suppose, my lady, Narnia will have to suffer along with a High Queen on Cair Paravel's throne."

"_Suffer_?" Lucy huffed in indignation at her brother's remark. "Oh, just shoot him already, Susan."

"Erm – y-your Majesties! Please! I-I don't feel this is…" Afton tried to interject, but the royal siblings ignored him entirely.

"Don't move," Susan warned Peter who only smiled at her.

Seconds later the red feathered arrow whizzed through the air and soundlessly embedded itself in the ground a few yards away, a pinecone nailed to its edge.

Lucy laughed delightedly, taking great pleasure in seeing the utterly astonished Prince Afton. He looked as though he might be sick, turning a bit green around the edges. Peter only nodded in acknowledgment to the prince before lingering on Susan and then he strolled off without a word. Susan turned back to Lucy, a satisfied blush coloring her cheeks.

"Shall we pick this up tomorrow?" she asked needlessly. Lucy was already nodding before she finished the question. The two sisters began to make their way back to the castle, but Lucy glanced round at the still stunned Afton who had yet to move.

"Only a few in the world, you say?" called to him cheekily and when he lifted his head in surprise, she turned away. The elder Queen smirked down at her knowingly and they shared a giggle.

Peter was a ways ahead of them, moving at a much faster pace than the one of leisure the girls had chosen. Susan locked eyes on his retreating figure, unaware that Lucy was watching her every expression.

Rolling her eyes, the girl sighed. Those two were so painfully obvious. Who did they think they were fooling?


	6. Chapter 6

_**WARNING:** NC-17, this chapter contains mature content so...don't say I didn't warn you!_

**Chapter 6  
**

A few weeks passed with nothing of importance to note. Prince Afton soon left Cair Paravel after Susan's archery display. His departure came as a great relief to all. Lucy spent her days wandering about the castle and calling upon many friends spread throughout Narnia. Mr. Tumnus often accompanied her during these travels at Peter's behest. Edmund worked diligently at training their army, not that they anticipated any warfare, but he felt they best be well prepared for anything that could come their way. Susan and Peter shared their royal duties almost equally; Peter usually undertook the insufferable task of writing ordinances and reviewing treaties shared all over the land while Susan tended to be the one to handle matters face to face, receiving and interacting with the large shuffle that passed through Cair Paravel on a daily basis.

The lovers met briefly in secret during the day, but it was the time they shared come nightfall they truly revered. As they grew used to this new way of being, Peter was quickly being driven out of his mind. Susan always seemed so in control of her emotions, whereas he was holding on by a thread. It wasn't that he didn't love kissing her, because he most certainly did, and if given the choice between kissing Susan and not having her at all, he would be content to kiss her for the rest of his life. His body, however, had a drastically different opinion on the matter. If he was not able to find release soon, Peter knew without a doubt he'd go mad. He pitied the poor Narnians that would have a crazed King on the throne, purported to insanity by his fiery, beautiful, sensual, maddeningly desirable _sister_… their very own Queen.

Susan gave no inclination that she appeared to want or to have even considered furthering their intimacy. So Peter stayed quiet and enjoyed whatever chance he had to be near her, touch her, love her; despite having to take matters into his own hands on several occasions throughout each day and night.

One not so particular evening, Peter readied himself to meet Susan, as was their routine (he would sneak down the hall after everyone had gone to bed to her chambers, and leave before anyone rose for morning). As he combed through his hair quickly, so as not to appear a slob, a creaking caught his attention. Susan stole into his room, carefully shutting the door behind her. Wrapped in a gold spun robe, she shyly stepped in further. Pleased by the unexpected visit, he smiled and was about to embrace her when Susan's hands went to the cinched waist, undoing the ties. Perplexed, he raised his eyebrows, unable to make sense of it. Susan's gaze never wavered, she watched him studiously as the silken material slipped off her shoulders without a word.

The young King sucked in a shaky breath, dumbfounded by the sight of her exquisite, naked form standing before him. The sheer beauty of his lover overwhelmed him and he felt his knees go weak, wanting to drop before her in exaltation. For he knew there was a no more divine wonder than his Queen. He didn't know how long they stood there or what happened next, who had moved, because when his synapses started firing again, he discovered that they were in his bed, between the sheets, and his clothing lay strewn about on the floor.

It was sweet, slow, and absolutely nerve-wracking. Peter was unsure and at times clumsy, but he made up for it with his searing kisses and increasingly skillful hands. It mattered not, the imperfections, because they were together and that was all they ever needed. Both gasped as their bodies seized and exploded in pure pleasure. Nestled next to each other, Susan on her side and Peter molded along her back, they fell asleep. The next morning they shared a lazy breakfast in bed before finally exiting Peter's room together. After sharing a kiss, uncaring of who might happen upon them in the hall, he left dressed for morning inspections and she went back to her chambers clothed in the golden robe once more.

Lucy was astonished by how they both glowed, exuding an infectious feeling of joy that overwhelmed whoever stood near enough. She was genuinely pleased to see her elder siblings so happy, regardless if she knew the cause. Edmund, however, was annoyed by their strange behavior and accused them of ingesting the leaves of a Kijjirig plant (known to cause hallucinogenic states). Lucy told her irate brother to hush up, she didn't want to chance souring their moods, but it didn't matter in the slightest. The skies would turn green, the earth would quake, and the seas would spit fire, but nothing would touch the lovers then.

--

A few days later, Peter was strolling along the stables and happened upon a young male faun with Lucy. They were giggling and whispering as they brushed the horses. The faun, Iclutis, was the son of one their stable attendants and Lucy had taken a liking to the shy thing. Peter always thought it was just a sweet friendship, but as he passed the stable unnoticed, he saw Iclutis place his hand on his sister's lower back as he helped her out of the lean-to. The innocuous gesture should have been perfectly innocent, but there was something about it that bothered him.

Strangely perturbed by the exchange he witnessed, Peter wandered off, trying to come to terms with these new developments. Somehow he ended up in the courtyard and found Edmund sitting on the steps, conversing with some of the palace attendants. When they were dismissed, Peter took the chance to mention it to him. If anyone were to understand his distress, it would be his brother.

Sitting down beside him on the stairs, they exchanged greetings, and then fell into silence. Peter fiddled with his tunic awkwardly, unsure of how to broach the matter. Sensing his hesitation, the younger King threw up an eyebrow at him.

"What is it?"

Knowing there was nothing to do but jump in with both feet, Peter leaned forward on his knees and said, "Lucy's suitors…is it right?"

"Right?" Ed echoed blankly.

"She's too young. As her brother, and the High King, I shouldn't allow so many offers to be made. And there are far too many…especially after Susan-"

The dark haired boy eyed him suspiciously after Peter suddenly cut himself off. He was about to say "after Susan stopped accepting proposals" but some guilty part of him made him stop, thinking somehow his voice alone would give too much away about the true cause.

"Yes, about Susan… isn't it strange how she threw off all interest in marriage so suddenly? Any theories behind it?"

Peter involuntarily seized at the question.

Edmund added, "She gave me a rather tenuous explanation for her change of heart."

Forcing himself to relax, Peter smoothly attempted to steer the conversation back on track and away from such dangerous territory. "Not a one, but it's not Susan I'm concerned about, it's Lucy."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Pete, she is on the younger side, but she's of age. Some kingdoms begin far younger, even contracting marriage arrangements at birth. It's distasteful."

"Of age?" Peter frowned. "She's barely twelve years old!"

Edmund snorted with laughter and clapped his bewildered brother on the back. "Oh, come off it! If she's twelve then that would make me," he paused to think about it, "…just fourteen or so."

Lifting himself off the steps, he brushed off some invisible dirt from his trousers before striking a dashing pose. "_This_ is not fourteen."

And before Peter could respond, he chuckled and relaxed his stance. "Don't have Lu catch you saying that, she'll have you drawn and quartered."

Staring up at him, Peter asked carefully, "Just how old do you think our sister is then?"

He shrugged, "I don't remember any of our precise ages. Sixteen? Seventeen? Is it so important to know the exact year? We haven't celebrated a birthday since home, you know."

Speechless, Peter only fell back against the stone steps. Dismissing their conversation as unimportant, the noise of some sword training in the distance caught Edmund's interest and he took off, leaving Peter alone to his thoughts.

--

Later that day, the straw haired King went to work in his study, focusing on anything else but his concern for Lucy. After a good hour and a half, he put the final touches on his most recent proclamation. Satisfied, he signed his name to it with a royal flourish (as was expected) and set it aside in relief. Just as soon as he set down the quill, a familiar pair of hands slid over his shoulders and down his chest. The ever predictable Cheshire-cat grin stretched his mouth and his entire being dissolved at her touch. Her cheek pressed against his and she murmured in a low, impossibly seductive voice, "Finished?"

Oh, he knew that voice, a bolt of liquid heat rocketed to his groin. Instead of waiting for a reply, she turned in and left a trail of soft kisses over his face and neck, even nipping lightly at his ear.

"Doesn't matter," he groaned as her hands stretched lower across his stomach.

In a blink of an eye, he reared up and caught her waist, practically tossing her onto his desk. Gasping with carnal delight, Susan reached out and ripped his tunic off uncaringly before their lips melded in a fiery crush. With bold, determined thrusts of her tongue against his, she told him what exactly what she needed. He tore open the front of her dress, and moved down her throat to her breasts, burning her with hot, open mouthed kisses across her silken skin. His mouth and hands were everywhere, hungrily trying to taste every inch of exposed skin he could. Moaning in response, Susan dropped her head back and lost herself in his devoutly expert touch. Roughly, Peter pushed her legs apart and ground his clothed arousal against her core, unable to comprehend another desire but burying himself deep inside her. She seized his bare shoulders in response, pulling harder, needing to be closer as he did. Having long since abandoned any thoughts of responsibility or actual sanity, Susan's hands darted down and impatiently yanked at his belt buckle. Peter groaned into her mouth when her fingers brushed against his straining arousal. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoved the back the folds of her dress, sliding his hands up her thighs. Just as he neared the dripping folds of her sex, Susan dug her nails deeper in anticipation, there was a shout from behind them.

Both of them froze in horror and jerked round to see a red-faced Edmund standing in the doorway.

Aghast, he stuttered profusely, "I-I-I thought Pe-Pete might want to train with-I don't -" Unable to continue any further, he whirled around on his heel and promptly ran out of the room, slamming the heavy oak door shut behind him.

Susan covered her mouth in shock. "Should we...?"

"No," he answered, still breathing hard. "I think he just needs some time to…ah…process. I'll have to talk to him later."

"I'm so sorry." A thoroughly embarrassed, Susan dropped her head against Peter's shoulder. "I can't believe I forgot to lock the door…how stupid…" she mumbled.

"Well, I suppose we have our answer," Peter exhaled.

"To what?" she raised her head wonderingly.

"When do we tell everyone?" A gentle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "About us, I mean."

Susan returned his lightheartedness with guarded concern. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"I don't think there's much of a choice anymore," he replied and kissed her swollen lips. "Cat's well out of the bag at this point."

"Peter…I'm sorry," she hung her head reluctantly. "We don't have to tell anyone yet. We could ask Edmund to-"

"No," he said firmly, surprising her. "I want this, Su… I need this," he corrected himself, "_We_ need this. I don't care what anyone says, if they support us or turn against us. None of it matters. I have you, and as long as that remains, the world can do what it will."

Susan shone up at him with unfaltering adoration, so relieved, proud, and loved, all at the same time. He smoothed down her hair with loving strokes as it had been made wild by the very same.

"It is as you said; we're in Narnia now, where we are destined to be." A twinkle lit his eyes and he added, "Besides, when in Narnia…"

"…Do as Narnians do?" she finished curiously with a fine crinkle of her forehead.

"And what do Narnians do?" he inquired flirtatiously, letting his fingertips sweep across her jaw and follow the delicate curve of her neck.

His happiness was infectious and Susan couldn't help but follow along.

"Sing?" she returned with a smile.

Peter shook his head and urged her to try again.

"Dance?"

Again, he motioned no.

"Eat?"

That earned her a look of exasperation, so she pursed her lips thoughtfully and pretended to think harder.

"Make merry?" she said at last, having run out of guesses.

Peter's wolfish grin gave him away. "That is _one_ way of putting it…" he rumbled and pulled her back into his embrace.

Dual peals of laughter filled the room, but were soon replaced with a markedly different sound as the lovers resumed.

--

That night the two of them took it upon themselves to separate and individually converse with their younger siblings. Lucy and Susan shared supper alone and just before dessert, the servants were startled by a scream and a crashing noise. At least four of them ran into the dining hall in a panic, only to find some broken pottery on the floor and the younger Queen fiercely holding her sister.

"Oh, Susan! I knew it! I just knew it. You're so right together! Just lovely!" she squealed energetically. "When shall we have the wedding? In the autumn?"

The raven haired woman laughed, "Not so fast, Lu. Let's just take it one step at a time."

Unfortunately, Peter's side of things was not going nearly as well. It took him forever to find Edmund; the boy seemed to vanish after the 'incident". No one had seen hide nor hair of him. In his search, Peter was forced to skip supper, and was just about to call in the palace guards for his brother when at last he found him down by the cliffs.

"She's our sister," Edmund said tightly without even a glance in Peter's direction when he came up beside him.

"I'm in love with her."

"Our _sister_, Peter!" he repeated insistently as though he hadn't heard him the first time. "How could you…" he trailed off and clenched his jaw as if to keep himself from speaking the words.

"We make each other happy, Ed." The wind whistled between them. "I didn't mean for this to happen, but-"

"But it did," he finished for him.

Not knowing what else he could say at the moment, Peter held his mouth shut, hoping for something…anything…

"Will you marry her?"

"I hope to," he replied and Edmund finally looked at him.

Peter held his hands held out in a plea. "I need your support on this, Edmund. If not…I don't know what we'll do."

After a long, hard moment of silence passed between them, Edmund turned around and left without a word, disappearing into the night.

It took him a week to finally start speaking to Peter again, after another he seemed to have come to terms with their relationship. It made him uncomfortable to see the two of them together, but as time went on, he became accustomed. In the end, Edmund was one of their fiercest supporters.

They made no formal announcement to the palace, but stopped carrying on in secret. The formerly forbidden caresses and displays of affection were now fair game. Peter made full use of it one day by kissing Susan goodbye on the pavilion in front of his officers before they rode out for an overnight travel.

"Be careful," she warned him sternly, his hand locked with hers.

"I'll be back tomorrow afternoon," he reassured her.

"My liege, we are ready," Oreius's deep voice invaded their endless little world.

Peter looked to him reluctantly, nodded and forced himself to let go of her hand. He made it a few steps away before whirling round and seized her in a heart-stopping kiss. Susan was left breathless and glassy eyed when he finally broke away and Peter was genuinely afraid he would not have the means to mount his horse at that point (though he didn't show an ounce of it on his face). Needless to say, the soldiers were quite shocked to see such a display.

After that, the news spread like wildfire. With Lucy's help, it even penetrated the densest thick of the forests. Everyone in Narnia knew of their King and Queen's courtship and rejoiced that there would soon be a wedding at Cair Paravel (though it hadn't yet been made official).

There were some mixed responses from the other kingdoms, but as they discovered later, immediately upon returning home, Prince Afton went to his father about the "odd" relationship between the High King and Queen of Narnia. In turn, King Aerius took it upon himself to inform the other monarchs of such 'impropriety' in hopes to sow some seeds of discord. He never liked the ruling four, even though he kept up the pretense of fond relations between them. As much as he despised Peter and the others, he was even more terrified of them. Regardless of the conflicting rumblings across the land, Narnia was content, and the atmosphere at Cair Paravel had never been more joyous or lighthearted.

Suitors continued to flock to the palace asking for Lucy's hand, and with each one Peter grew more and more impatient. She took each one with a smiling gaiety that she had in everything else she ever did. They would stay for a few days, and she would entertain them with her affable company before sending them on their way again, no worse for the wear. Lucy showed no interest in courtship, but approached all with the same congenial manner that was intrinsic to her very being.

When an ambassador for Linisk, Emperor of the Lone Islands, arrived, asking to be received by the Kings and Queens, Peter nearly had the guards set him back on the boat before he stepped foot in the castle. Linisk was a deplorable man, always trying to find a way to goad the High King into conflict, not to mention he was well on his years. To have the gall to ask for a Narnian Queen's hand in marriage, let alone his baby sister, was grounds for war. At Susan's gentle insistence, Peter stewed quietly through the entreaty and when he was certain the ambassador had finished, he politely turned him out (albeit through gritted teeth).

Later that evening, Peter lay beside his love in quietude. The only sound between them was hushed turns of breath as their bodies settled from unparalleled heights of passion. Susan was stretched on her stomach, cradling a pillow as she dozed lightly. Peter's head rested at her waist, a long arm thrown haphazardly over her bare thighs. Their only light was a flickering lantern, dancing an orange light about the room of shadows. Turning into her hip, he nuzzled her lightly, revering the feel of her supple skin against his face and he was overwhelmed by an intense need to touch her. He slid his hand along the curve of her bottom and pressed his lips to the tender flesh of her hips, his tongue darting out to taste her before grazing her with a gentle nip. She shook with giggles and tried to brush him away, but he held fast. Pulling himself onto his elbows, his fingertips danced along the length of her spine, exploring each and every inch with leisure. Peter loved the way her body sensuously curved, rose and fell with every perfectly exhaled breath; dipped in and out, all covered by an incomprehensible vastness of gloriously soft skin. He was determined that no part of her, however minute, would go untouched. Every place he found was marked by his lips or hands, meant for him alone. He leaned down and placed sweet kisses to outline her shoulder blades, all the while enamored by the feeling of her beneath his fingertips.

Susan sighed softly. "What is troubling you?"

Her voice sounded oddly magnified after such a long span of silence.

Peter halted his attentions momentarily. "Am I that transparent?"

"Even more so," she retorted and he would bet anything she rolled her eyes, but he couldn't see her face from where he was.

"It's Lucy," he admitted and continued his timeless exploration.

"What about her?"

He lowered his mouth to the small of her back, hovering over her teasingly. His warm breath tickled the fine hairs on her skin and Susan shivered despite herself.

"All this talk of marriage for her… courtships… I don't believe she's of an appropriate age for such behavior. It worries me."

"She is young," Susan agreed, "But she hardly looks it."

"So you do remember how old she actually is?"

"Of course!" she scoffed. "But our appearances are misleading. We have matured much more quickly, in body and thought, than our ages imply. Lucy is a young woman, and Edmund looks as though he has two decades behind him. Something about Narnia changed us that way…" Susan rolled over onto her back, stretching her limbs in a catlike manner, her exquisite breasts bared to him unassumingly. "I am sixteen years old, Peter. Do I _look_ sixteen to you?"

His knavish grin gave her his answer and Susan arched an eyebrow at him knowingly. She certainly did not appear sixteen, having the ravishing body and face of a fully matured _woman_. For a moment there, Peter forgot they had been talking at all, and was ready to lose himself in her for the third time that night. Then his worries poured in again and he damned his bothersome mind.

"So it is of no concern to you?" he inquired. "All these men?"

"Not yet, anyway."

"What does that mean?"

"Peter…" she started tiredly. "Lucy has virtually no interest in romantic affairs. She finds the entire prospect of courtship a form of entertainment with no real grounding to it. The actuality of what they're proposing, and/or desirous of, is utterly foreign to her. So, no, it does not concern me."

Peter said nothing, absentmindedly tracing an invisible pattern across her abdomen as he pondered the matter.

Susan threaded her fingers lovingly in his thick, blonde hair. "She does it for you, you know."

"What?"

"Lucy," Susan clarified. "She accepts the suitors for you, as a part of her duties. She knows how difficult it would be for you, in our foreign alliances, if we did not show signs of goodwill by at least allowing them a spot of consideration. Why do you think I so obligingly accorded proposals for my hand? I had no interest in any of them!"

With a hint of guilt, she added, "After I made the official declination of all further offers, Lucy took it upon herself to make up for my role."

"She didn't have to do that!" Peter exclaimed in protest. "I would have figured it out. It's not-"

Susan interrupted him. "It's Lucy," she said simply. "Albeit not nearly as pragmatic as she should be, she wants to do what is best for all of us. Besides, almost every man who steps foot in here with a proposition is not here for Lucy herself. I'm sure you very well know that. They're here for an alliance with Cair Paravel. It is a concern of power, to join the strength of Narnia with some other great kingdom…rather than an interest in love."

Peter molded his cheek against the soft concave of her belly, silently processing all that Susan had revealed. She was right, and he knew it. Her reassurance quelled a large amount of his fear for his younger sister, and when he sighed, all his tension seemed to escape with the exhaled air. Lucy would be alright, he wasn't failing in his duties as her brother to protect her. He felt an innate sense of fatherly responsibility for her wellbeing, just as surely as he felt a lover's protectiveness for Susan and brotherly concern for Edmund. Relieved, the pressure of the young girl left his thoughts.

His head rose and fell with Susan's even breaths and he was reminded of the mention of her own suitors. The very thought put a sickening rage inside him, never had Peter considered murder so calculatingly as when Susan was being pursued by prospective husbands. He never spoke to her about them, thinking it would be too painful to hear. Now, though, after they had become so close…he couldn't deny the yearning for an answer, to truly know what happened once and for all, and end the chapter.

"That's why you spent so much time with them?" he ventured apprehensively. The fear in his voice…the doubt… propelled Susan back three years to a time when her brother was just a boy whom everyone was determined to see as a King – lost and unsure. "Why you went out of your way to…to…"

"Flirt?" she guessed. When he didn't answer, she took that as an affirmative response.

"Some of them were quite charming and made for enjoyable company, while there were many others who were just…boorish for lack of a better term. I had no concrete interest in a single one; it was just a form of courtesy. Had I been uncivil and austere, we would have had a great strain on our connections across the lands. In Ettinsmoor and Galma especially…" she grimaced at the memory.

"Oh," was all Peter replied.

Susan didn't press the matter any further, understanding the distress it caused him. She had known he was jealous when suitors came for her, but back then she never could have guessed why. What did it matter now? Rain beat against the glass pane, a heavy summer shower began to flood the grounds.

Peter lifted his head and glanced out of the dark window. "It's raining," he said.

"So I hear," she replied lazily.

Suddenly, without a word, Peter leapt out of bed and threw open the doors to his balcony, disappearing.

"Peter!" Susan cried in shock and fumbled after him, taking the sheets with her. She came to the entryway in disbelief, staring at Peter who stood in the pouring rain with his head tilted back towards the sky.

"What on earth do you think you're doing!?" she admonished. "You'll catch your death out there! Come back inside, you're already soaked."

Peter only grinned and shook his hair, flinging water droplets everywhere. "Join me, Su!" he laughed. "It feels amazing."

"Have you lost all sense?" she shot back incredulously, adjusting the linen wrapped around her. "I'm not going to stand in the freezing rain…"

"It's the middle of the summer!" he protested. "It's perfect. Now come out here!"

"I'll do no such thing!"

He raised his hands to the open clouds and closed his eyes, reveling in the warm, fat summer raindrops soaking his bare skin.

"Peter!" she huffed. "Someone could see you!"

He opened his eyes and gave her a look. "It's pitch dark, in the middle of the night, who is going to see me?"

"The tower guards for one!" she returned.

"Then snuff the lantern and come join me, you won't be able to see your hand in front of your face, let alone anything else…"

"Not a chance, now come inside."

"Not a chance," he countered determinedly.

They stared each other down for a moment, and Susan drifted from his eyes, lingering over his wet body, water running across his naked chest and forming rivers down his ridged stomach. Her breathing quickened and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. Wet hair hung across his forehead and from underneath came a smoldering gaze that ignited fire deep within her core. Mouth slightly agape, Susan noticed the smug grin on his face and realized she had been ogling him. Annoyed, she ripped away from him, mentally berating herself for being so obvious.

"Dance with me."

"There's no music," she pointed out.

He shrugged.

"And it's raining."

Again, he shrugged.

"You're also completely naked."

Peter grinned roguishly. "All the more reason for you to dance with me."

Susan narrowed her eyes at him and then with a huff, she turned around to extinguish the lantern. When Peter saw that he had convinced her, he inwardly rejoiced with pride at his accomplishment.

"Can't believe…of all the insanity…" she muttered imperceptibly to herself and when the room was blanketed in darkness, she went back to the doorway and took a deep breath before relinquishing the sheet. She stepped out into the downpour; the rain instantly drenched her, and found Peter with outstretched arms.

"You're a lunatic," she told him matter of factly.

He chuckled and enveloped her in his slick embrace. Susan gasped at the cool contact, her breasts slid against his chest with delicious friction and his wet hands trailed down her sides before slipping across the small of her back to hold even tighter against him.

"Brilliant lunatic," Peter murmured huskily.

Overcome with the gravity of the moment, Susan reached up and stroked his glistening, hard chest, feeling him ripple under her touch. She knew there would never be a more exquisitely made man for her. The way Peter made her feel – just by being near him, it was as though she could feel herself becoming what was reflected through his eyes – strong, beautiful, clever, graceful, desirable… All things she couldn't bring herself to believe. Such emotion, as he elicited with frightening ease, should not be possible, she often told herself. It didn't make sense in the least, and yet its presence was undeniable – bursting in every moment they ever spent together as well as apart.

"I feel freer with you," she whispered, barely audible over the noise of the rainfall. "It's not like it is with the others…all others. I feel as though it will be alright if I don't always think it through…because you'll be there." She looked up at him sharply. "And that terrifies me. You make me lose control and you make it feel okay to do so. I can't afford to do that, Peter."

He cupped her wet cheek, stroking her softly with the pad of his thumb. "You don't have to work so hard, Su," he murmured. "Not with me. It's alright to let go sometimes, I'll keep you safe. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved, without thought or pretense. Just you."

She didn't reply, but Peter knew she heard him.

The sensation of him beneath her fingertips drew all of Susan's focus. The brief contact wasn't enough for her, every cell in her body demanded more, screaming at her as if she didn't keep touching him the agony would be unbearable. Driven by a force that was not her own, she ran her hands across his lean stomach and slid upwards over his sensitive nipples and stroked his shoulders before running down his long arms. The deluge continued, and as the rain poured over them, it couldn't help but feel as though they were being cleansed. Any remainder of shame or guilt was being washed away and they were given a chance to start anew.

Peter seemed to be in a trance, watching her with dark, unfocused eyes, following her every movement. He was awash in the sensations her tender care brought. Her gentle hands touching everywhere, willing her love into every crevice, Susan was making her claim to him. Every caress, stroke, and trace was filled with unwavering confidence, she knew he belonged to her and wasn't afraid to assert it. A thrilling shiver went through him at the knowledge that she was possessing him.

He pulled her flush against him once more, making no mistake about his arousal. Susan giggled and wound her arms behind his neck, urging him down to meet her lips. Their mouths fused in languid exploration, tongues meeting again and again as they flickered and twined, gently sucking and melding into one another. Water swirled around them both, winding its way around their bodies, jumping from one to the other without a care until it reached the bottom and flowed away. A weaker imitation of the exquisite flooding of moisture between Susan's thighs as Peter made love to her mouth. His kisses were beyond divine, he could bring her to the brink just like this, holding them flesh to flesh as he devoured her mouth with his expert lips and tongue. The ache in her grew, she needed more, but then a shiver broke through her as wet skin met with cool air proved to be too much.

Without missing a beat, Peter buried his face in the crevice of her throat, his tongue flickering out to taste her, and they stumbled backwards into the dark room. His hands slid down, cupping her bottom and lifted her up so she could capture his hips in her hold. Teasingly, he rubbed his aching member between her folds, coating himself with her juices. Susan's breathing became harsher at the tantalizing friction and she nibbled at his ear, licking the outer shell lightly before kissing her way to his lips. Uncaring of their how wet they both were, he laid them down, stretching out leisurely and gravitated his weight comfortably on top of her, matching flesh for flesh, love for love, soul for soul.

He kissed, suckled, and licked his way down her neck, across the delicate outline of her collarbone, taking his time, but Susan had other ideas. She rolled them over with ease and settled on top of him. Their gazes locked, Peter looked up at her with bright, shining eyes of adoration, causing such sensations of love, peace, and happiness, it brought her to tears. Susan parted her legs and sheathed him inside her, watching his flawless visage change from wonder to a restraining furrow to wonder once again. She sank to the very hilt, burying him deep inside the scorching flesh of her core and began to ride him with slow, languid, deep strokes, each one more agonizingly pleasurable than the next. Peter's long fingers dug into her hips calling upon the last remaining strands of his willpower to let her set the rhythm. The provocative sight of him disappearing inside her again and again nearly made him come right then and there. Susan grinned down at him with hedonistic superiority, relishing the maddening pace as the erotic pleasure built with every rock of her hips.

"Susan…" he whimpered, breathing erratically. "I-I can't…please…"

The Gentle Queen braced her hands on her King's shoulders, whipping her raven hair back, and watched her mate try to wrest control of their lovemaking. Refusing it, she continued the deep, sweet merging of their bodies, delighting in the utter sensuality of him slowly filling every part of her; pulling out to the very tip of his shaft, rolling around him, and sinking back in again.

Susan hummed with delirium. "Mmm…Peter…" The rhapsodic pleasure threaded through every nerve of her body in an electric storm of ecstasy.

He trembled beneath her, clutching painfully to her waist, and tried to increase the pace as he needed by thrusting upwards, but Susan held him down securely. She bit down on her lower lip, loving how her big, strong, powerful King was driven to whimpers.

"Susan!" he gasped, at wits end.

Finally taking pity on her lover, she plunged into him harder, giving him what he so desperately needed. Groaning with agonized relief, Peter thrust into her heated depths with all his might. Their rhythm became a frenetic climb towards euphoric release; he drove into her powerfully, causing Susan to return with her own assault. He was too close to the edge too soon, knowing that she wasn't quite there with him yet, so Peter grasped her sides and angled her in a way that allowed him in even deeper and snaked his hand downwards, teasing her swollen point between his fingers. Susan arched against him with a gasp at the increased onslaught and he captured one of her full breasts in his mouth, ardently suckling the fragile flesh and laved over the sensitive, straining nipple before switching to the other. Ramming senselessly into him, Susan threw her head back in a silent cry as her orgasm rabidly overtook her, writhing and clawing at her lover. Her channel quivered around him and with one last powerful thrust, Peter gave a strangled shout, joining her in savage ecstasy and filled her with all he had to give.

They collapsed back onto the bed, wet, sticky, and uncaring about any of it. As the stars faded from her vision, Susan curled against him tiredly. Her body was so heavy with satiation; she didn't think she would have the strength to stand if she had to.

"You'll be the absolute death of me," he uttered hoarsely in amazement, still breathing hard.

Susan smirked. "I think you have a few more years in you yet."

"An early grave then," he replied in all seriousness, looking down at their glistening bodies and covered them both with a blanket.

"I love you," she mumbled sleepily.

"I think I'm in love with the rain now," he chuckled. "I'm gonna have a talk with the fauns about calling for more with those dancing rituals…it'll have to rain every day, the High King decrees it."

Susan didn't have the strength to so much as pinch him, so instead she half-heartedly muttered, "Oh, shut up."

Peter tipped her chin up and took her lovingly, taking his time to thoroughly pervade the recesses of her sweet, warm mouth. When their lips reluctantly parted, Susan laid her head against his shoulder, and soon her eyes fell closed in exhaustion. He lay awake for a little while longer, unable to drift though his overextended body longed for respite. He locked onto her peaceful countenance; memorizing every inch for a time he would no longer be able to see it.

With imperceptible lightness, he peeled away a wet strand of dark hair that had been plastered to her cheek before breathing an ardent request into her ear. "Marry me."

His only reply was a soft sigh as his lover burrowed deeper into his chest, having already fallen into a deep sleep.

Then oblivion sought himout as well.

--

Even though the first proposal went unheard by Susan, they did indeed marry that fall. All of Narnia was invited to the celebration of their High King and High Queen's blessed union. The sheer size and extravagance of the festivities was unprecedented, much larger than any ball or gala they would ever host, and the merry affair went on for days as no one could bear to end such happy times.

Not long after the wedding, Peter and Susan decided to go for an afternoon ride. The woods were bursting with color, bright reds and oranges and yellows as the trees prepared themselves for the winter to come. Riding gaily between the trunks, they laughed, bantered, and chatted about nothing in particular. Susan had just broached the subject of their honeymoon, as they had yet to decide on a destination, when something caught her eye and she suddenly pulled back on the reins, causing her horse to whinny and stop. Peter had gone on a bit further ahead and when he no longer heard Susan behind him, he turned around and trotted back towards her worriedly.

"Is everything alright?"

Susan didn't answer, staring across the woods pensively. Peter followed her gaze and soon landed on what had caught her attention. Eyes widening, he immediately led his horse over to the object in question.

"Peter…" Susan called from behind him warningly, but he paid no attention.

After a swift dismount, he walked towards an enormous beech tree that seemed to be strangely more still than its surrounding family.

"This was the one?" he asked Susan, who had ridden up next to his steed.

"I believe so…" she replied hesitantly.

Peter reached out and ran his hand along a large, ugly gash made in the trunk; it must have been at least four inches deep into the wood and had just barely begun to heal. Susan knew not what to make of his mysterious behavior. Indeed it was the same tree that held her in the final battle with the White Witch's army, the very same one that had caused her fall. The memory of Peter threatening to chop it down ran through her head. Then, before she knew what was happening, he wrapped his arms around the wide trunk and said, "Thank you."

Both bewildered and amused, Susan watched him in shock as he released the tree, which was now swaying in the wind as the rest of the forest did, and hoisted himself onto his horse once more.

"You hugged the tree?" she said laughingly, not sure if she could trust her own eyes with this one.

"Yes," he nodded as though it were nothing in particular.

Susan still couldn't get over it. "You _hugged_ the tree?"

Peter only smiled, vaguely pleased with himself. "Shall we?"

"Yes, but since you hugged a _tree_, I'm considering whether or not I should call for help…"

But he had already ridden off and Susan soon followed, glancing back at the beech in wonder.

Peter knew exactly what he owed that tree, for its sacrifice. If it had never dropped Susan, there was no telling where they would be now. It was Susan's near-death that forced him to remain at her side, showing him what he could have lost, and leading to the ultimate discovery – that she loved him in return. Otherwise he was certain that at this very moment he would be halfway across the world, carrying out his plan to put distance between them, continuing to fight the feelings he had for her.

Without that tree…he would never have been granted the privilege to call Susan his wife. He would have been alone and in endless agony. It never failed to impress upon him how so very close he came to never having this at all.

Oh, he loved that tree.

Of course, he never said any of this to Susan, who was left to her own devices to seek out the reasoning behind his bizarre actions. She even went to Edmund later about it who in turn asked, "Did he kiss it?"

Horrified, she replied, "No! Of course not!"

Edmund shrugged dispassionately. "Good, at least that means you haven't any competition."

Susan rolled her eyes and complained of his utter uselessness.

--

Many years passed (the exact number lost to them), and though it came with its inevitable dark hours and trying days, their time in Cair Paravel couldn't have been a more wonderful existence. The High King and High Queen reigned over Narnia's peacetimes with a singular fierce and loving hand, the Just King and Valiant Queen remained steadfast at their sides.

One cool autumn morning, Lucy approached her two eldest siblings and happily informed them of her engagement to Prince Lyndon of Terebinthia. Peter smiled knowingly and hugged his sister, having already sanctioned the union beforehand. He liked Lyndon, he was a kind young man with a heart of gold to match his sister's valiant own. Susan, however, was hearing the news for the first time and was overjoyed by her sister's match.

The next day, to the family's surprise and delight, Edmund made an early return home from his voyage overseas after being absent for half a year. Amidst their celebration, Mr. Tumnus ran in huffing and puffing with word of the White Stag being sighted. Within the hour, the two Kings and two Queens rode out through the castle gates.

As their worlds changed, so did Peter and Susan. No longer were they Gentle and Magnificent. No longer were they royalty with an indivisible love that could transcend the earth, having been made children once more in such a way that they could never be young.

They slept alone once again and Peter's nightmares returned, but there was no Susan there to comfort him. Each night as he tossed and turned in anguish, sobbing her name, he never knew that Susan was crying his own.


End file.
